You and I
by DreamsAreMyWords
Summary: Santana and Quinn met for the first time when Quinn literally crashed into Santana's life. After declaring themselves as enemies, they couldn't deny chemistry, and dated until it ended: badly. Now, six years later, they meet again. It seems as if fate WANTS them to be together. But will Quinn's carefully guarded emotions push Santana away? Sequel to My Clarity. Quinntana Glee AU.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Hello my lovely readers, this is the sequel to My Clarity. It can stand on its own, but hopefully most of you have read the first one. If so, you know how it ended. Well, here's their second chance, right? Maybe? We'll see.**

**Enjoy!**

**Chapter One**

* * *

**Quinn's POV**

Snow was a funny thing. Depending on the person, it could be either a bad thing, or a good thing. Ugly, or beautiful.

For me, it was beautiful.

I watched it now. Studied the way each individual flake floated to the ground in jerky, irregular patterns. The sun was out today, and the rays scattered off the smooth surface of the snow in brilliant beams of light. It made me happy, to observe the snow. It turned the world into something new, something exciting. Something unique and different.

I supposed it could be said that I liked the snow because it was inconvenient for other people. Well, that would be right. I liked how it ruined people's plans and gave some nasty surprises. That might sound bad, but it was the truth. I thought it was funny. Meanwhile, for me, snow gave me beauty to look at and let me skip work every now and then. I worked at Mayfield High school, as a choir teacher. Not exactly the job I'd envisioned myself having, but I loved it. Money didn't matter, since my father had died two years ago and left all his money to my sister and I. Good thing it was a lot of money. I knew that sounded...insensitive. But honestly, did I miss him? Not really. He had never had much to do with me, to be honest. I didn't regret not having a relationship with me, considering if he knew the real me, I never would have been able to become myself, if that made sense. I had plenty of other regrets in my life, though.

"Quinn!"

My best friend's voice ripped me out of my moping. Yes, I was moping. It was almost the New Year, and I was just as miserable as I'd been the last New Year. I was also just as single. How depressing was that? I turned and took in the pretty site of Lena Ortega-Lena Yates now, I reminded myself, as Lena was now married. The years had been kind to her. Like me, she had cut her hair shorter. Both of our choppy tresses swung above our shoulders now. Also like me, Lena had gained some weight. Not much, but enough that our curves had filled out, and we looked more like women than girls. Which was good, considering we were both twenty-five years old.

"We're going to be late! Are you coming or not?" asked Lena once she'd caught up to me. She was faintly breathless after running up a flight of stairs.

"Lena," I chided. "You know you aren't supposed to be running."

Absently, Lena ran a palm along the slight bulge of her stomach. She'd been pregnant for three months now. I was happy for her, and also a little perturbed. Children sounded completely unappealing to me. Then again, teaching music to a hundred kids every day did become tiring after awhile.

"A little exercise will not hurt my Travers," she murmured, casting her belly a look of pure, glowing adoration.

"Still set on Travis?" I asked as I looped an arm through one of Lena's and began to walk her toward the mall escalator. Lena had been obsessed with the name Travis since we were twelve years old and watched Travis Tedford play in the Little Rascals.

"Of course."

"Tell me when you change your mind."

Lena rolled her eyes, smiling nonetheless as we both made our way onto the plane for Nebraska.

We were going home for a reunion, of sorts. Janelle had moved back to Nebraska (she and Lena also used to have a summer house in Idaho, where they moved to after Lena graduated high school and went to college) about three years ago, when her son (and Lena's older brother), Antonio, had fallen into financial crisis. Basically, he'd burned a hole in his pocket with the money he'd received from the will of his late father. She'd helped put him back on his feet, but when he'd met Shelby, his future wife, Janelle had decided to stay. She didn't regret it, as that meant she was able to see her first grandchild, Robert, every day.

And soon she'd have another grandchild, I thought as I glanced at Lena sitting in the comfortable first-class seat next to mine. Lena smiled when she caught my eye. "What are you thinking about?"

I shrugged, sitting back in my chair. The plane was warm, which was a nice change. It was chilly up in Alaska, of course. I had been here for two years now. I didn't mind. Winter was my favorite, and I could experience it much more here than I could back in Nebraska, where the April season meant alternating between rain and sunshine. Bizarre weather patterns, Janelle, Lena's mother, had said. I was a little worried that the abrupt weather change would affect me—after all, it was a crisp 42 degrees in Anchorage, Alaska, unlike the 90 degrees in Nebraska, which was to be expected in mid-July.

_Ugh._

I slept about ten hours on the plane, and then found myself wide awake and growing restless. I wondered if quitting my job in Anchorage had been the right thing to do. I had loved the kids there, and the school had been great. The reason I had quit had been...well, to be perfectly honest, I'd been lonely. I had no friends up there. The only person she knew really well was Austin, and he... my mood darkened considerably. He was _not _on speaking terms with me.

_Figures,_ I thought with a mental scoff, that the first guy I actually dated seriously in seven years had been an asshole. Not only had he broken off the engagement, but he'd done it over the _phone. _Why did I have such bad luck with relationships?

I continued moping for the remainder of the flight, so by the time we landed in Springfield, I was consequentially melancholy. Lena noticed and seemed determined to cheer me up, pointing out sights cheerily as we walked down the street toward where her brother's house was. Their luggage had already been taken care of by a paid valet.

Gross. I was already sweating. My shirt clung to my skin and my damp hair stuck to my neck. Lena was sweating even more, as she carried more weight. Even so, her hands were always firm and tender on the slight bulge of her belly. If you didn't know she was pregnant, you would've just assumed she'd eaten a large lunch.

"Are we nearly there?" I asked breathlessly; even despite consistently exercising in one of the local gyms back in Anchorage, I wasn't accustomed to this hot weather, and even walking down the street was an arduous task.

"We're here." She gave me an equally breathless smile, and lifted a hand. She knocked on the heavy wooden door in front of them. We stood before a rather quaint house. Not lavish like I was used to, but...mmm, adequate.

"_Selena!_ " Lena's elder brother flung his arms around his sister, aiming for a bear hug and halting immediately when he remembered she was especially fragile now. Smiling good-naturedly, he patted her gently before turning to me. "And Quinn! You haven't shown your face around here for a while, huh?"

I grinned up at his beaming, darkly-skinned face. I'd missed his devilish grin, the way he was like extended family. His rich voice gave me a comfortable sense of familiarity.

"Hey, Tony." I laughed when he swept me into a hug, turning in a full circle before setting her back down. "How are you? And Shelby? And Robby?"

"Great," he said enthusiastically, and as though he heard his name, his little two year old son Robby appeared behind him, tugging on the knee of Tony's jeans. I heard him murmur "Daddy" in an adorable soft voice, and then I smiled in response to Tony jerking Robby into the air, throwing him high. Robby squealed and wriggled with laughter in his father's arms.

"Hey Rob, you know who this is?" Tony's voice was easy and patient as he held Robert still and pointed at me. God, Robert looked exactly like his father. The same devil smile, the same big brown eyes. The only difference was that his skin was a couple shades lighter, more of a mocha tan rather than a brown so dark it was nearly black. He gazed at me in wary anticipation.

"Hi Robby," I said in one of those weird baby voice If couldn't help but to make, holding out my hand to him. Robby shied away.

Tony laughed, leaning Robby toward me. "This is Quinn, Robby. Can you say Quinn?"

Not surprisingly, Robby remained silent, watching me without pause to blink. I merely smiled back at him.

"So, where's your mom?" I asked Tony, straightening but continuing to make goofy faces at Robby.

"In the living room, watching Oprah." Tony rolled his eyes, and then brightened. "You're going camping with us, right?"

My cheeks puffed as I blew out a breath. I wasn't big on the outdoors. "Ah, I told Lena I would. As long as we're only doing it for the three days."

He nodded, readjusting Robby in his arms. "We'll be driving for most of the time. Are you bringing anyone with you?"

I shook my head, resisting the urge to snort. As if I could bring anyone with me. With my luck, a guy would turn out to be a psycho killer, and if I brought a girl, she'd be a stalker or something.

Tony seemed to notice my dry amusement. He grinned. "Maybe you'll change your mind. A couple of my friends are coming, and I believe Lena also invited—"

"Claire and Rhiannon." I nodded rather glumly. "I know, she told me." I wasn't reluctant because I didn't like them. I'd grown up with Rhi and Claire, I loved them to death. They just had a habit of trying to hook me up with every available guy or girl they met, ignoring me every time I tried to explain that I didn't _want _to date. It was never worth it, and I was better off alone anyway. No annoyances that way.

The doorbell rang suddenly. Tony peered over my head, out the topmost window of the door. His grin widened. "Speak of the devil," he told me, placing Robby in my arms. Robby squirmed a little.

"You're late!" Tony boomed as he yanked open the door.

"I'm always late," another man laughed.

When the man walked into view, shrugging off his leather jacket, I frowned, my brow creasing in puzzlement. I knew this man. Why did I know this man? He was attractive, broad-shouldered with arms that had thick, corded muscles. He cocked one eyebrow almost arrogantly as he looked around the room before pulling Tony into a hug. I did know that man. The reason it had been so hard to place him was because there was only baldness on a head where there used to be a strip of black hair, a Mohawk. Noah Puckerman, commonly known as Puck. Someone I had not seen in quite some time, and whose presence reminded me of memories I wished I could forget.

"What's up man, how you been?" he asked, but he and Tony's conversation fell deaf on my ears as my gaze zeroed in on the person who was following Puck through the doorway.

My mouth fell open with an audible pop.

It was a girl—a woman, now— that I hadn't allowed myself to think about in over four years, and hadn't spoken to in six.

_Santana Lopez._


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

* * *

**Santana's POV**

I felt my heart stop beating as I walked into Tony's house and locked eyes with a girl I hadn't seen in nearly seven years.

_Quinn Fabray._

Never in a thousand years did I think this would happen. Holy hell. As if in slow motion, I watched her look up from Robby, who she had propped up on one of her hips. Her golden hair was shorter now, and the tresses bounced as her head tilted back so she could glance at the door, where I stood partially obscured by Puck. She turned shell-shocked. I watched her eyes widen, the green and gold of them so vivid even ten feet away. Her pink, plump lips parted in surprise, and her face turned stark-white before blood rushed to enflame her cheeks. Then, with a sense of surreal horror, I watched as she jerked, seemed to take a step back and then change her mind just as Robby squirmed. She fumbled to keep ahold of him, and it resulted with Robby falling to the ground hard on his back and Quinn standing over him with her hands clasped over her mouth in terror.

Then the silence was broken by the high screech of Robby's cry.

Tony was scooping him up in an instant, patting his back and murmuring soothing words to the crying child. Quinn stood beside them, her eyes wide and stricken on Robby before shifting onto me. I couldn't look away from her. It was like having a train slam into my gut.

I used to think about Quinn a lot. More than was healthy, anyway. Six years ago, we had dated. And then I made an utter dick move by choosing her sister over her...her sister, who was an evil bitch who'd been plotting against me before we'd ever even met. The problem was, I hadn't fully realized that until three months after I left the state (I had been living in Nebraska for three months of summer, helping my then-roommate Kurt out with rebuilding his aunt's house). I had to move on, of course. It was better to let her go. For one, we were from two completely different worlds. And for two, Quinn and I's relationship had scared me. I didn't love her as I had loved Brittany when we dated, because it was a different kind of thing. Quinn and I had not been friends for years prior, and we had only known each other for a few weeks before we started dating. But the chemistry we had together had been potent. We had the potential to be…everything. And that's what terrified me. The feelings for her were stronger than any I'd ever felt, and though I hadn't known it then, I knew it now, six years too late.

I had been in love with her.

Not anymore, of course. I really had moved on. I'd been just a teenager then, after all, only nineteen. I'd fallen in love with another girl since then, though we had decided to part ways when the love had faded. We'd had only lasted a year. I had bad luck with relationships, apparently.

"I'm so sorry, " Quinn gasped to Tony, and I felt a rush of emotion at the words. I hadn't heard that voice in so long. Had only dreamt about it.

"It's fine," Tony assured her, loudly over the sound of Robby crying. His wife Shelby rushed in.

"What happened?" she said urgently, lifting her arms for the child. Tony gently slid Robby into them.

"It is alright, " he told Shelby, his accented voice soothing. "He just fell down. He's okay."

"You dropped him?" Shelby said sharply, her brown eyes cross on her husband.

Quinn stepped nearer, shaking her head. "No, I did. I'm sorry. I—"

But Shelby's eyes had widened when Quinn had stepped forward, and she cut across Quinn's apology by yanking Quinn into a one-armed embrace. "Quinn! I haven't seen you in years!"

"Just two," said Quinn, sounding faint with the relief that Shelby wasn't scolding her.

"Two too many." Shelby drew back a little to beam at Quinn. Her eyes brightened even more when she spotted me. "And Santana! Come here!"

I felt nerves twisting my insides (Jesus, I hadn't been nervous in years) as I dutifully walked into Shelby's one-armed hug. "Hey Shelb," I murmured, brushing my lips across her cheek in greeting.

"Quinn, this is Santana Lopez. Santana, this is Quinn Fabray." Shelby gestured at Quinn, who was frozen in place, her eyes shifting between me and Shelby. "She just came down from Alaska."

Alaska? _Fuck, that's a long, cold place away._ When I had ran into Claire at the grocery store several months ago and asked how Quinn was doing to be replied with the knowledge that Quinn had moved, Claire hadn't mentioned she'd moved a billion miles away.

Then Quinn shifted her gaze onto me, looking similar to a deer caught in the headlights. I froze too. I couldn't think of anything to say. Wordless, I robotically held out a hand. Quinn glanced at it, and then at Shelby, as though she had a fleeting thought of wondering what Shelby would do if she merely turned and walked away. She seemed to decide to be a bigger person, which was surprising, as I was fairly sure that the old, nineteen-year old Quinn would have flipped me off before stalking away. Her eyes instead focusing on my Chanel heels, she slid her hand into mine.

I blinked at the electrical current the touch of her skin against mine had sent crackling up my arm. Quinn shook my hand once, then yanked her hand out of my grasp and took a step back. "I'm going to go find Lena and see if she needs any help," she said quickly to Shelby, who seemed a little perturbed at the odd behavior. As Quinn walked toward the kitchen doorway (more like sprinted, actually), Shelby turned to smile at me again.

"So, how was your trip?"

I swallowed, hard. My trip had been boring—compared to now.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

* * *

**Quinn's POV**

I slipped into the bathroom beside the kitchen, closing my eyes and leaning back against the closed door, my chest rising and falling rapidly along with my breathing. My heart was beating a tattoo against my chest. _Oh my God_, I thought frantically. _What was I going to do?_

I could _not _go on a three-day camping trip with Santana Lopez! That was suicidal! Wasn't it?

_Calm down, _I ordered myself. I reined my breathing under control, and soon my heart rate was back to normal. Now that I could think rationally again, I considered my options.

I could fake illness. No, Santana would realize what I was doing, and I couldn't give her the satisfaction of knowing I didn't want to deal with her. She could just tell Lena I couldn't go. Lena knew what went down with Santana and I six years ago, and she would understand. But it would hurt her...we'd been planning this camping trip for almost eight months. Well, the only thing left to do would be to go. I could just avoid Santana at any costs. I nodded. Yes, I could do that. I could do it!

Invigorated with the knowledge that I _could _do this, I opened the door and almost ran into Lena. Her eyes were wide.

"Oh my God, Quinn, Santana is here!"

"I know," I nearly moaned, losing the invigoration at once. I seized Lena's hands. "What do I do? I can't talk to her!"

"Wait, wait, think about it," whispered Lena, capturing my attention. I leaned forward to hear her words better. "You are over her. You haven't even spared her a thought in years, right?" When I nodded, she went on, "She's just a girl. A very attractive girl, but just a girl nonetheless."

"Not helping," I hissed through clenched teeth.

Lena hastily went on, "You can have conversation with her. You won't be affected. She's just some random woman. A stranger, now."

"A stranger?"

"Think about it. Are you the same person you were at nineteen?" Numb, I shook my head. "Neither is she. You're both strangers. You can do this."

"I can do this," I repeated, squeezing Lena's hands. "I can do this."

She gave me a smile that said both encouragement and apology for dragging me into this mess.

"How did you not know she was coming?" I asked, trying my best to keep the accusation out of her tone.

"Tony only said he was bringing friends. I didn't know he was friends with…what's his name?"

"I think we call him Puck."

"Puck. And I guess Santana's the date he chose to bring. Weird coincidence, right?"

"Yes," I said slowly, thinking about it. A very weird coincidence. Fate had trouble set in store, apparently... And what was up with Santana being his date? I thought she was lesbian.

"Let's go back. Mama wants to see you." Lena kept hold of one of my hands, leading me through the kitchen and into the living room.

My eyes immediately zeroed in on Santana sitting on the couch. She carefully avoided my gaze, looking instead at Janelle, Lena's mother, who stood before me. She'd acquired a few more wrinkles since the last time I had seen her.

"Quinn!" She wrapped her fragile arms around me. I smiled a little as I hugged her. This was like my second mother. She'd helped step in after my mother died when I was eight.

"How are you?" I asked when I drew back to look into Janelle's brown eyes that looked so much like Lena's.

"I am _wonderful, _" she beamed.

The ring of the doorbell interrupted our reunion. Tony went to answer, and when he returned, Claire and Rhiannon trailed behind him. They squealed when they spotted me.

"Quinn!" they both shrieked, and proceeded to buffet me with hugs.

Temporarily forgetting about the woman sitting on the couch several feet away, I laughed as I half-choked in their embraces. They looked exactly as they had when I had last seen them two years ago: gorgeous and gleaming.

It wasn't until they moved on to hug Lena and fawn over her belly when I spotted the man currently exchanging jokes with Tony. Blonde shaggy hair that was currently scattered around his face. Big mouth, yet still managed to be cute. I knew him too. He was always around Brittany, Santana's ex girlfriend. What was his name?

"Oh, dude. I forgot." The man took a step forward, grinned around the room. "My name is Sam Evans." He lifted a hand and made a peace sign, then said in a horribly accented voice, "_I come in peace._"

Tony rolled his eyes, elbowing Sam in the ribs. "Come here, you freak." He steered Sam toward me. "This is Quinn Fabray, from Alaska."

Sam shook my hand vigorously, and I couldn't help but to let loose a baffled laugh at his energy. _Did he not remember me?_

Tony then steered him toward Rhiannon.

"This is Rhiannon Dean, commonly known as sex on a stick." Rhiannon gave Sam a flirtatious smile as she shook his hand. Tony yanked him toward Claire.

"And this is Claire Thames, who can tell you when there's a thirty percent chance it's already raining." Claire giggled when Sam shook her hand.

"Nice to meet you all," said Sam cheerily.

Guess he doesn't remember me, I thought as he went to chat with Shelby. He was funny, and nice, but apparently didn't have the best memory.

I felt my face heat up a little when I realized that Santana was staring at me. Determined to act normal, I headed right for her.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four**

* * *

**Santana's POV**

I watched as Quinn laughed as she was introduced to one of my old friends, Sam Evans.

I knew it was bad, but I was jealous of Sam. He could make her laugh when he met her. When I shook her hand, she looked as if she might throw herself out a window.

Quinn had grown up, I noticed as I observed her. She'd filled out more. She was a little taller now, and curvier. She must've went up at least one cup size...

_Don't even start thinking about that_, I told myself sternly, looking away. I couldn't help it; my eyes snapped right back onto her.

God, she was gorgeous. I didn't remember her as _that _gorgeous. Her skin was lighter than it had been when she was nineteen; I guessed that was because she wasn't out in the sun as much. It suited her. The pale, flawless skin was perfect with her sunlit hair and her vividly hazel eyes. Those eyes had haunted him. Anytime I ever saw anyone with such unusual eyes, I was always instantly reminded of her...

She turned suddenly as though she'd felt my eyes on her. I watched as she squared her shoulders, held her head high and walked toward me. Surprised, pleased, I only watched as she sat down in the recliner next to mine.

"Hi," she said briskly.

"Hi," I replied, a little baffled.

She looked determined as she said, "So...how have you been?"

"Ah...good. I hear you moved to Alaska?" She nodded. I continued, "What do you teach there? Claire told me you were a teacher," I added at her startled expression.

"I'm a choir teacher."

I couldn't help but to grin. "I remember you told me you could sing." I felt like an idiot after I said that, because a weird shadow flickered across her eyes. Why would I be dumb enough to bring that up? It did make me wonder though. She never sang for people, so how was she a choir teacher? Hm. Maybe she had opened up and started singing again.

"Yeah..so...what have you been doing?" She had this sort of... It was just this expression, guarding another expression on her face. Almost vulnerable but then...not. God, I didn't even make sense to myself.

"I'm in the food business, actually." I chuckled when a smile tugged at the corner of her lips. "No, I love it. I'm good at what I do."

"I remember," she laughed, sobering at once. We both gave each other rather fake smiles. The silence between us was awkward.

Then, thank God, Tony saved us.

"Lena says you two already know each other?" he inquired, easing down onto the recliner on the other side of me. When Quinn and I both nodded, he asked, "You worked together once? For a few months?" Uncomfortable, we nodded again. "Why did you not mention that you already knew each other when Shelby and I introduced you?"

We didn't answer. I glanced at Quinn, saw her quiet expression, and felt guilt form a lump in my throat. Speaking up, I supplied, "We were too surprised. We haven't seen each other in years."

"Dinnertime!" called Shelby from the kitchen.

"Damn." Tony grinned as he stood up. "Talk about fate or what." He jerked his head toward the kitchen as he held out a hand to help Quinn to her feet. "Anyway, let's eat. We're waking early morning tomorrow to leave."

As we ate dinner, I studied Quinn, isolating myself out of all the idle chatter. She seemed...quiet. It was strange, because when I used to know her, she was never quiet. Besides the first few days when Frannie had arrived...and I tried not to think about that. I honestly still felt bad about what he'd done. And it was probably stupid how I thought I'd been in love with Quinn—after all, we'd only known each other for a month, never mind dating for hardly two weeks. But I had felt it all the same.

She smiled and laughed and talked whenever someone would talk to her, but whenever no one was engaging her in any sort of conversation, she fell into somber silence. It was almost unnerving. As I watched her talking with Janelle, I thought absently that I should've recognized Janelle and Tony. I never met Tony when he was younger, but I had met Janelle, at that party Quinn had dragged me to that summer so many years ago. I hadn't recognized her, and she hadn't recognized me either, but I at least should've recognized the name Lena Ortega—and then Lena Yates, after she'd married Bryant Yates—when Janelle and Tony talked about her. What an odd coincidence, that I would unknowingly become good friends with the brother of Quinn's best friend...

Finally, it was time for bed. Janelle left (she lived next door) and Quinn, Lena and Bryant went with her. Tony and Shelby headed for their bedroom upstairs, while Claire and Rhiannon headed for a guest bedroom. Sam and Puck slept on the couch, while I slept in the recliner.

It was hard to fall asleep. My thoughts kept straying to Quinn.

We woke at nearly five in the morning. Everyone was rushing around, trying to get the things they forgot. The only people that weren't rushing were Quinn, Lena and I.

Quinn and Lena were busy having a hushed conversation at the bar in the kitchen. I kept glancing at them as I poured myself a bowl of fruit loops. I had a sneaking suspicion that they were talking about me...

* * *

**Quinn's POV **

"I can't do it, I just can't!"

"Quinn..."

"I mean it, Lena!"

I glared at my best friend as I stabbed a piece of egg with the tines of my fork. I was trying to convince Lena that there was no way I could go on this trip. Lena wasn't listening.

"We have been planning this for _months. _You flew down here. You _have _to go." Lena told me sternly as she took a bite of her fruit loops.

"Don't you understand?" I whispered, glancing furtively at Santana across the kitchen to make sure she wasn't eavesdropping. "I had a dream about her last night! A dirty one!"

Lena paused in her eating to peer at me thoughtfully. "How dirty?"

"Remember that dream I had about Catherine Zeta-Jones in eleventh grade?" Lena's brows rose. "Yeah. That dirty."

Lena shook her head, resuming her meal. "You still need to go. Do it for me, Quinn," she said pleadingly. Her brown eyes were big and sparkling. She fluttered her long, luxorious lashes. I seethed. Lena had always been good at that.

"Fine," I said through clenched teeth. "But you owe me."

Lena smiled. "Of course I do." She took another bite of cereal.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

* * *

**Quinn's POV **

Soon everyone and everything was loaded into the huge van Tony had rented for the occasion, and we were all waving goodbye to Janelle, who was babysitting Robby while his parents were gone. Despite the size, the van was still cramped. I found myself sandwiched between Santana and Puck somehow, which she did not like at all. Now I could only look out one window, since I couldn't look Santana's way without accidentally catching her eye.

We drove for about four hours before pulling into a McDonalds for lunch. Of course then Lena said the smell was making her sick to her stomach, so instead we drove to a Wendy's. After we ate, we hit the road again, not stopping until about four, when we finally pulled into the little house Janelle kept in Little Rock, Arkansas. I was cheered up when I heard that Santana was going to be staying in a separate house, since she apparently had a friend who owned one near where we were staying at. We dropped her off and then drove to Janelle's place to settle in for the night.

I found myself growing melancholy as we drove, which I promised myself I wouldn't do. This was the fourteenth anniversary of my mother's death. Though now I only cried on the holidays or the anniversary of it, it was still hard. Lena and Bryant were the only ones who knew. Claire and Rhiannon, who had only known me since I was thirteen, were clueless, as I had never spoken to them about my mother. In fact, the only person I had ever spoken to about my mother other than Lena and Janelle was Santana. I hadn't even shared it with Austin.

_Which probably should have told me then that we weren't meant for each other,_ I thought with a sigh. I felt like an idiot for allowing myself to trust Austin. I knew better now. You can't trust anyone. Period.

By the time everyone was getting ready for dinner, I had a killer headache and was getting annoyed with anyone that even looked at me. Everyone kept leaving and then coming back, in and out the door, and it was driving me crazy. I, she was sitting at the kitchen table, savoring the small amount of peace I'd finally gotten. Didn't last very long.

Cheery greetings tore at my already-pounding head as the door opened yet again, this time revealing Tony and Shelby. I snorted into my eggnog when I saw that Shelby was wearing a polka-dotted jumpsuit that made her look like a ladybug on steroids. I had the weirdest friends.

"Sorry it took us so long. We had a lot of luggage, " said Shelby. She gracefully trotted into the house, while behind her Tony followed, staggering under the weight of the ridiculous amount of bags he held in his arms.

Sam and Bryant stood and took a few bags out of Tony's arms. Bryant grinned at Tony over the top of them. "'Pussy-whipped, huh?"

Tony rolled his eyes while he and Bryant made for one of the bedroom doors. "Isn't yours prego now? If that isn't whipped then I don't know what is."

Lena, who was currently humming to herself over a pan simmering on the stove, looked up at the word prego. Almost unconsciously, she folded her hands over the tiny, imperceptible bulge of her stomach. "He has a name, you know."

"Really?" Tony called out, his voice distant as he went into the bedroom. When he emerged back from it, he added, "Which is what?"

Lena gave a half-dimpled smile. "I like Travis."

"I like Bryant Junior," said Sam as he came out of the bedroom. "BJ for short. I think it's awesome."

"No," Lena said lightly. "He would be teased for life."

"I think it's cool," Tony sounded so enthused, I thought with another snort.

"You would," Lena said, softening the insult with a laugh. "Shelby, what do you think of that?"

Shelby, who was setting to work on dicing the celery, spared Tony a glance before shaking her head. "'I think he's insane, as per usual." she said dryly.

Tony opened his mouth for a friendly retort when the door opened with a loud bang. I turned, felt my jaw drop when Santana stepped over the threshold. "Jesus," she exclaimed, drawing out a wince from Shelby. "Could it be any hotter out here?"

"Hotter?" Lena laughed. "It's dropped ten degrees!"

She gave her a wolfish grin as she strode over to the stew, dipped a finger in and brought it to her mouth for a taste.

I couldn't help but to watch her finger enter through her parted lips. I was mortified at how my stomach clenched in response to her tongue poking out, flicking over her bottom lip to lick up the stew Lena was cooking. I couldn't believe how…incredible, Santana looked. She had filled out more in the six years too. She was curvy but lean, and her skin was a glowing shade of brown that looked so soft I just wanted to touch it. Her raven hair was pulled back into a tail, and she wore a green and blacked striped outfit that looked pretty incredible on her. She was absolutely gorgeous, and I honestly don't think I'd ever seen anyone as beautiful as her.

"That's good. And yeah, I know, but still."She turned, that grin turning just a bit superior when she spotted Quinn, still gaping at her. "Hey there, Q."

I clenched my teeth together so tightly that grinding could be heard. Determined not to let my anger or surprise show on my face, I turned my head toward Lena. "I thought she was staying in a separate house."

It was Claire who spoke up. "We thought she should stay here. After all, we're all supposed to be together having fun."

I gave up all pretenses and threw my hands up. "Well great. That's great. I'm not sharing a bedroom with her."

"Oh, there's only that one bedroom, so we're going to use it to put our luggage in. We're all going to camp out here, in the living room." Rhiannon pointed toward the corner, where bags were pied high. "We'll use the sleeping bags."

I stood up, a scowl fixed on my face. I stomped toward the coat rack. "I'm going to see what's around here."

There was another car outside now, one I assumed that Santana had driven here in. It was a black Porche, so whoever her friend was that I'm guessing she borrowed it from, must be pretty rich. I took the van, grateful Tony had left the keys in it. Twenty minutes later, the air conditioning was burning up the car and Bad Romance was blasting from the speakers. I sang along, giving my lungs a break only when I pulled into the parking lot of what looked like a quaint little pub.

I walked through the heavy wooden door and was greeted by quiet, stereotypical bar music and the overwhelming smell of musky alcohol. There weren't very many people here. Of the ones that were, they were scattered, a few at a bar, some at the tables, and one couple was even dancing (and badly at that). I made a beeline for the bar, where the scruffy barman was absently stroking a hand down his short white beard. "Bermuda highball. Quick."

The man gave me a yellow-toothed smile. "In a hurry, lady?"

I downed the shot glass he handed me, even though I was fairly sure that whatever he made me was not a cocktail. I sighed as the warm liquid trickled down my throat, burning it, and settled my stomach in comfortable ease. "Mmm. Another."

The man chuckled as he poured another. "A woman such as yourself don't look the type to get trashed like this. Startin' a new trend?"

I gulped down the next glass. "Maybe."

* * *

**Santana's POV**

At half past eight, I began to wonder when Miss Throw-a-Fit was going to come home. She'd been gone for almost three hours now. I was relieved when, finally, Lena spoke up, "Can someone go find the nearest grocery store? We need more potatoes."

"Yuck." Rhiannon made a face.

"I'll go," I said immediately, rising to my feet.

Lena gave me a look of mingled gratitude and curiosity. "Alright...and hey." I turned in mild surprise when her hand rested on my arm before I could walk out the door. "Don't upset her. This is a hard time for her."

"Why?"

"It's the anniversary of her mother's death."

Sorrow roiled in my stomach. Poor Quinn. First her mother's death, and then I was here, stressing her out further on top of her grieving... Feeling wretched, I drove right for where Lena said Quinn would be: the nearest bar.

She sat at the bar, nursing a glass of what looked like whiskey, but I couldn't be sure.

I didn't think she noticed when I slid into the stool next to hers, so I was surprised when she grumbled, "What are you doing here?"

Easily, I reached over and took the glass from her, brought it to my lips and sipped. Whiskey. And stale whiskey, at that. "Lena sent me."

Quinn made a noise of understanding. She was slumped over the counter, her chin resting over her folded arms. "I'm not an alcoholic, you know."

"What?"

"I'm not. I don't get trashed when I'm upset. I'm buzzed. But I don't make it a habit of getting buzzed. You just have bad timing."

I bent my head down so I could get a good look at her. Her eyes were glazed. Yep, she was buzzed. "I never thought you were an alcoholic."

"Liar," she said calmly as she lifted her head to look for her whiskey. She narrowed her eyes when she spotted it in my hands, and I held it out to her before she could snap at ,e.

"I didn't think you got trashed a lot, anyway," I offered instead.

"Sure you didn't." she said flatly as she tipped the glass back. I was shocked to see her down it all in one go.

The bartender seemed to leer down at her. "One more?"

With a somewhat sloppy smile, she pushed the glass into her hands. "One more sounds great."

I frowned as she finished yet another. "Alright, let's go back now. We have to buy potatoes."

"Potatoes!" Quinn stood so abruptly her stool went tumbling back. She threw her hands in the air. "I love potatoes!"

"That's nice," I muttered, throwing a few bills onto the counter, grabbing her hand and tugging her out of the bar.

Ten minutes later, I decided going to the store after picking her up had been a bad idea. She stumbled along behind me as I perused the isle, and was loudly pointing out the various flaws of the people walking around us.

"His nose is so big. And so are his ears. Oh, but look at her!" She almost ran into me in her haste to point at the rather thin woman walking past them. "World's flattest chest? I think yes!"

I glanced at Quinn's own chest. "You aren't so curvy yourself, honey," I fibbed.

She teetered as she looked down at herself. "I'm a 34 C. That's perfect."

I snorted. "For you, maybe."

Quinn's upper lip curled a little as she gave me a drunken sneer. "Lemme guess. What's perfect for you would be something along your line...Rhiannon."

I considered it. "She does have very nice ones."

Quinn let out a nasty little laugh. "'She hates it, you know. Double D's can get in the way a lot. Not that I—or Claire with her little B's—would know that. I guess you would, though."

"I'm a D, not a Double D."

"Lena's a D too."

"Interesting," I said mildly as I steered her toward the front desk to pay for the potatoes.

"Huh?" Quinn looked at me blankly, and I sighed.

"I didn't say anything."

The atmosphere in the room was boisterous when we returned. Claire and Rhiannon were practically rolling around on the floor laughing as Puck and Tony attempted to dance along to music as it blared out from the radio.

"You guys suck at dancing. Let a professional show you how it's done." Quinn all but purred as she slunk out to take her place between Tony and Puck. Shelby, who was watching from the kitchen, let out a particularly loud shout of laughter, pointing at Quinn as she began to shimmy.

"Quinn, you're drunk!"

"I'm not," Quinn said in a matter-of-fact tone as she did a quick twirl. "I'm pleasantly buzzed."

"Pleasant being the operative word," I grumbled as I eased onto the arm of the couch.

Lena, who was standing beside Shelby, laughed, flashing one dimple at me. "It was not fun?"

"Humor. Ha."

Quinn seemed to be the entertainment as the night progressed. Besides her, things were otherwise what I would consider a normal night out with friends. At half past midnight we were all lounging around the living room, except for Quinn, who was too busy cramming chocolate cake down her throat in the kitchen. I had just finished with my own and had risen to put away my plate. Quinn and I passed each other, she on her way out, when we both jumped due to the loud shout given by Tony.

"GUYS!"

When everyone had looked at Tony, confused at the devious grin he had, he pulled something out from behind his back. Everyone except Bryant and I gave whoops and squeals of delight. Twister.

"Who wants to go first?" crowed Tony

Rhiannon and Claire immediately jumped up, their hands raised like eager students. Tony laughed and nodded in approval, and everyone started to set up the game.

A minute later, Claire and Rhiannon were crouching together, two hands on blue and green, and a foot on yellow.

"Who else wants to join?"

Moments later, Sam, Puck, Shelby, Lena, and even Bryant—due to Lena's pleading—were playing too. It was extremely comical to see everyone out there struggling to stay on.

"Santana, you next! Get out here!" said Tony..

I shook my head, grinning. "I'm good. I'll just watch."

"Looks like someone," Quinn murmured as she strode past me, toward the game. "Is afraid they aren't flexible enough."

I lifted his brows, half amused, half annoyed, when everyone made oooh sounds as though I'd just been burned. The theory was ridiculous, considering I had excelled in gymnastics my entire childhood, and was a captain of the Cheerios team in high school. Quinn, however, I wasn't so sure of. I knew she had been in gymnastics and been a cheerleader as well, but I didn't know how good she was. "Oh, and you are?"

Quinn only looked back and grinned at me, despite all the ooohs surrounding her. "You have no idea."

I couldn't help but to watch in intrigue as she spun the dial and then went out onto the matt. I felt my stomach tighten as I watched her slide her way onto the appropriate colors. Her back was arched over Claire's stomach, her head under Sam's chest and her hands beneath Sam's head. Tony gave me a meaningful look—one that clearly meant both _holy crap I can't believe she can do that_ and_ if you don't tap that, you're an idiot._

I shook my head at him, but had to swallow, hard, when I looked back at Quinn, who shot me a grin from beneath Claire and Sam. A taunting grin. I couldn't let her get away with that.

I marched over to the dial, and everyone cheered as I spun it.

_Oh, for fuck's sake._ What was the coincidence that I'd land on the exact same ones Quinn had gotten?

I walked over to the map, wondering how I was going to do this. There really was only one option. I bent over Quinn. Chest to chest, knee to knee, waist to waist. I began to smile pleasantly at her when she lifted her head to look at me, her half-sober eyes surprised that I'd done it—and surprised that I had the audacity to bend over her like this. Our faces were literally hardly three inches apart. My smirk faded as I looked at her. Why did she have to be so beautiful? Her flawless skin was stained with a hint of pink. Her eyes were no longer completely glazed, but just a bit glassy now, brightening the emerald and the gold. She was breathless, and I felt her heart beating against my own. This was the most awkward position I could've gotten myself into. If we were naked, this would be porno worthy.

"You are really flexible," I said, unable to think of anything else to say.

"I know," she said, and her voice was hard to hear amidst all the chatter surrounding them.

I felt all my muscles clench as we held our gaze. I couldn't look away, and she couldn't either, though half of that was probably because she was partly drunk and had less control over herself than normally. Which wasn't good, now that I thought about it...because I had less control over myself than I normally did right now, too. It was like her eyes made me forget my inhibitions.

"Tony, you're the last one, come on!" Shelby called, her voice strained because of the three people over her.

Grinning, Tony spun the dial and then hurried to the other side of the Twister matt, close to Rhiannon and Bryant. Everyone groaned and laughed as the weight pushed everyone closer together. I felt Quinn's hips press more tightly against mine, and felt her body tremble under the weight. An innocent move, yes, but it plunged my thoughts into the dark and not so innocent.

Oh shit. I was helpless, as my body took on a mind of its own. Being a sexual person really sucked sometimes. Without my permission, my hips grinded into hers, an obvious move that involved my body rolling against hers, and pressing the most private part of my body against the most private part of hers.

Quinn lifted her head again, her mouth falling open in surprise as she gaped at me. At first, shocked, I tried to pretend I didn't know what just happened. Quinn's eyes were wide as she kept staring at me in shock.

_Shit shit shiiiit._

I apologetically grimaced at Quinn, which seemed to do more bad than good. "Oh my God, " she choked, and twisted away from me, consequently knocking Claire down, which knocked everyone down. As everyone collapsed, the last thing I saw was Quinn running out of the living room.

Everyone was laughing at how they fell. I rolled over onto my stomach and flattened my forehead against the matt.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

* * *

**Quinn's POV**

_Oh my God._

I was drowning in shock and lust as I plopped my butt down on the bathroom floor, brought my knees up and wrapped her arms around them. On one hand, I was stunned. I was completely shocked that Santana had…had _grinded _me. She had literally grinded against me. What the actual fuck?

On the other hand...I was completely and hopelessly turned on.

I absently wondered if there was a hairdryer in here, so I could plug it in and then thrust it into the water. _Thrust._

She whimpered.

_Okay okay, get it together._

Breathe. Just breathe. In, out. In, out. In out in out in out—

I yelped in both surprise and guilt when there was a knock on the door. I was horrified when, upon opening it, I found Santana standing there.

"Quinn," she began, her brow creased with concern. "I'm so sorry, I—"

"Shh," I said, lifting a hand to stop her. I closed my eyes, watching my breathing again, this time careful not to _think. _

_Alright. Pull yourself together. Alright. Good points and bad points. _

Bad points: I was buzzed and therefore not able to stop myself from making horrible decisions. Santana was incredibly tempting, which was ironic because she'd really hurt me when we had dated, which sucked because we were living together for three days, and which was weird because I hadn't been attracted to anyone so strongly in years. I hadn't even felt this much lust for my ex-fiancé, Austin. Maybe it was because I knew Santana was out-of-bounds.

"You gotta...you have to get out. Now," I told Santana, keeping my eyes closed so I wouldn't have to watch her countenance change to some type of puppy-dog expression that would make me feel guilty.

Apparently, she wasn't hurt that easily. I opened my eyes, gasping, when she grasped me by the arms, picked me up and set me on the bathroom countertop. _What the fuck? I think you go to the gym too much._

"Look," she said after she'd released me. "I'm going to be honest with you. Okay?"

Too stunned to do much anything else, I nodded.

"Hopefully you're not too drunk to remember this," she said thoughtfully.

"I'm buzzed," I said, annoyed.

She waved it away. "I don't care. I need to get this off my chest." I stared as she moved forward, put her hands on either sides of my waist and looked me in the eyes. "I still have feelings for you, Quinn." My jaw and stomach dropped. "Strong feelings. I know I was a bitch back when we dated, and I know it won't be easy for you to trust me again. I'm not saying I want to be in a relationship," she said quickly, and I felt a small flutter of relief. "I've actually kind of sworn off relationships."

"Me too," I said.

"That makes it easier then. Alright, so..." Agitated, she dragged a hand through her long, dark locks. "This is going to sound really bad, but I want to be honest."

I nodded. "Honest is always good."

She took in a deep breath, watching for my reaction. "I'm really..._wanting _you," she explained carefully.

I blinked when her face wavered out of view. I must be more buzzed than I thought. "You want to sleep with me."

All the breath rushed out of her. "Yes," she said firmly.

"Well..." I studied my French-tipped nails. "I want you too. I don't like you, but I'm attracted to you whether I like it or not. _But..._we can't do anything about it. Sex always complicates things."

She nodded in agreement. "Sex is never simple."

"So...we should just...stay away from each other." After a long moment of silence, I peeked down at her. Her expression was inscrutable.

"Alright," she said finally. "It'll be easier that way, I guess. First, though, I want to tell you something." She folded her arms beneath her breasts, her expression turning hard while her brows creased. Then she seemed to steel herself, and she dropped her arms, instead reaching over and taking my hands in hers, while her expression softened. "This might be stupid, since it happened so long ago, and I'm sure you're over it by now, but, I'm sorry for what I did to you. I should've listened to you. You were a thousand times better than Frannie ever was. I was immature, running away from my feelings, and I'm sorry. I'm sorry," she repeated.

I stared at her for a long time. Finally, I drew back my hands and slid off the counter onto my feet. "Thank you," I said, tripping over the words a bit. "Even though you're a little late."

Santana gave me a small, sad smile, brushed my hair back from my face with her fingertips. That simple movement sent tingles up my spine. "Sorry." Then she held door open for me and I walked out.


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: Thank you so much for all the views, favorites and follows, and most of all for the lovely reviews! You guys are awesome :)**

Let me know what you think, and enjoy!

**Chapter 7**

* * *

**Quinn's POV**

"Waaaaake up!"

"Quiiiiiin."

"Lucy Quinn, waaaake up."

I moaned into my pillow, burrowing my face deeper into it. People were crooning my name. People that sounded distinctly like Rhiannon, Claire and Lena. I groaned loudly to let them know my thoughts about waking. I had a horrible headache. Two words: _killer hangover._

"Wake up, Quinn. Your undies are hanging on the clothesline. You might want to get them before anyone else wakes up."

_Oh God, anyone like Santana!_ I jolted up, my head spinning for a moment. Dizzy, disoriented, I blinked at the grinning faces of Rhi, Claire and Lena. "Is my underwear really hanging outside?" My voice was thick. My temples seared. _Ouch._

All three of my friends shook their heads, their grins broadening. I sighed. "Then I'm going back to bed." I collapsed back onto the pillow.

"Oh no you don't," said Rhiannon in her sweet voice that always meant business, pulling me back up. She patted my back. "We're going hiking today."

"Ugh." I rubbed my eyes with my fists. "I thought we were going to a spa."

"Tomorrow," Claire corrected. She made a sour expression. "The men only agreed to it because we agreed to go hiking with them tonight."

"Why couldn't they go hiking themselves while we go to the spa ourselves tomorrow?" My three friends shrugged, and I scowled.

This whole trip was so disorganized, it was already irritating the living fuck out of me. First of all, it was supposed to be a camping trip. Yet we were all staying in a cabin out in the woods a mile away from a town. Were we all going to be murdered? Probably so, although if we went camping I'm sure a bear would have eaten us or something. But Lena was worried about sleeping out in thin tents in the wilderness, so Tony had contacted one of his friends, who owned the little cabin we were currently in. So exactly what kind of trip was this? _Random shit to annoy Quinn, I guess_, I thought with a grumble.

Since I was awake now, I might as well get something to eat. I rose to my feet and walked into the kitchen. Claire, Rhiannon and Lena trailed along behind me. All the men and Shelby were out of the house. It was eerily silent. I opened the fridge and found it was empty, too. "Where's all the food?"

"Everyone went out to get it," answered Claire, continuing on, "And because we all made a pact to do everything together. So we have to hike with them. But they also have to get pedicures with us." She grinned, wiggling her eyebrows at Rhiannon, who giggled.

I arched a brow at the two of them and said dryly, "We have a pact. So if Lena and Bryant, or Tony and Shelby, decide to have sex, then we all have to join in on it?" _Eesh._ _Quinn+hangover=bad jokes._

"Har har," said Lena, absently cleaning off the kitchen bar with the side of her hand, scooping the crumbs into the trashcan below.

"Yes," said Rhiannon simply. She echoed my eyebrow arch. "Same goes if you and Santana have sex."

I immediately felt blood rush to my cheeks. "I'm _not _going to have sex with Santana."

"Why not?" asked Claire, sitting on one of the barstools. "She's single, you're single. You have history."

"Exactly," I said heatedly. "Why would I want to drag myself through that again?"

"Oh, get _over _yourself, Quinn," complained Rhiannon. "That was like, ten years ago. Neither of you are the same person now."

I scowled. "I hope you trip and break a nail today."

Rhiannon feinted a dramatic gasp before winking at me.

* * *

**Santana's POV**

Quinn, Lena, Rhiannon and Claire were all ready to go by the time we arrived back at the house and ate breakfast. Quinn, I noticed, did not look too cheery with the prospect of hiking, though she was definitely dressed ready, with her cameo tank, short mocha shorts, and sturdy brown boots. So much of her pale, creamy flesh was exposed, and I would be a liar if I said I wasn't tempted. Which meant I would be steering far away from her.

"What took so long?" complained Claire as she nibbled on a glazed donut.

"_Somebody_ couldn't decide what they wanted," teased Tony, causing Shelby to laugh when he nudged her ribs with an elbow. "Last time we bring a woman along."

She widened her eyes, though she still looked playful as she seized one of the sausage rolls from the box. "I was the one that did all the shopping! You guys were just my bodyguards. Ironically enough with the only other woman being the most ferocious," she added, shooting me a grin. I rolled my eyes, flicking my raven hair over my shoulder.

"How?" inquired Lena, taking a drink of coffee.

"All I did was bitch on this prick who was rude to Shelb," I said swiftly before Shelby could tell her own exaggerated tale. "He'd bumped her and about knocked her down and he didn't even say excuse me."

"So Santana made him." Shelby giggled. "She told him to say sorry to me, and the guy just stared at her. Then Santana like, glared at him and got in his face and started cursing on she was from Lima Heights Adjacent, and had razor blades in her hair that she wouldn't hesitate to cut him with, and he apologized."

I spotted an odd look flash across Quinn's face out of the corner of my eye. When I turned to her, she quickly replaced it with a bored expression.

"Yeah, well." I sent an easy smile Quinn's way. "I'm a hero, what can I say."

Her mouth thinned, but she otherwise clamped down on her obvious irritation.

An hour later, Quinn looked even colder as we all struggled up the mountainside. Her expression was hard and unchanging, and I wondered if she was really that angry at me for last night. I hoped not. It was embarrassing enough already.

"Hey Quinn," I overheard Lena murmur from Quinn's side. I glanced out of the corners of my eyes and spotted Lena taking Quinn's hand, pressing it to her belly. "I swear I can feel him kicking."

They stood there for a moment and I kept on, providing a safer distance between us. I still heard Quinn, the monotone of her voice as she said, "Lena, I can't feel anything."

"Sure you can. Feel. Oh! Oh, Bryant, come here."

I glanced back over my shoulder, dragging my feet in an attempt to slow down and catch snatches of the conversation. Bryant hurried to Lena's side and placed his hand on her belly. His face split into a grin.

"Hey! I thought it was too early to feel the kick." He bent, pressed a cheek to Lena's belly. Lena dropped her hands to the top of Bryant's head, feathered her fingers through his air and stroked gently as she smiled and said, "He's just strong."

Quinn, however, was frowning. "Is he okay? If it's too early, then maybe—"

"No, no, it's not uncommon." Lena turned her smile to Quinn. "If babies are strong, they can start kicking early."

"Hm." Quinn didn't look comforted when she dropped her hand from Lena's baby.

I cleared my throat. "Uh, Quinn?"

When she looked up at me and a crease appeared between her brows, I regretted calling her name. Too late now. I jerked my head, indicating for her to come over. I waited as she trudged up to where I stood.

"What?"

"It's okay." When she only stared at me, I jerked my head toward Lena and Bryant, still cooing over the baby. "I don't know if you remember them, but the same thing happened to my friends Rachel and Finn, with their first baby."

Quinn's expression fell flat. "Great." she said, and abruptly walked off up the hill.

I gaped at her, offended_. That was rude_. I hitched my bag farther up on my shoulder, took off after her. I wasn't about to let her get away with it.

"Hey. Hey!" Since she didn't turn, I stopped in front of her, halting her in her tracks. "What was that? Why are you acting pissed?"

"I'm not pissed," she snapped. "I'm irritated. Everyone knows more about childbirth than me, that's sad."

"Why's that sad?" I swiveled around, following her as she began to stalk off again. "Most of my friends already have kids, and I'm still fairly close with most of them. I know a lot about childbirth." She didn't answer, only kept marching though the mud and uneven land made her stumble occasionally. "Q, come on. You don't have to be ashamed of that."

"I'm not ashamed of anything!" she said heatedly, whirling around. Behind her, I could see Claire, Tony and Shelby halt, shooting us both wary glances. Meanwhile, Quinn was stabbing me with her own glare. In the sunlight flickering through the tree leaves, her eyes had turned into a cat-eye yellow/green. "You just annoy me. Shut up and leave me alone, why don't you? And stop calling me Q."

When she began to storm off yet again, I followed her once more, too pumped with my own anger to back off. I'd never been very good at backing off, anyway. "Looks like it's someone's time of the month."

She practically hissed as she spun to face me, but then her foot slipped. Since we were going up a steep hill and I stood directly behind her, when she fell into me, it sent us both crashing down the hill.

I heard our names being called in alarm as Quinn and I went tumbling down nearly twenty feet of hill. We were finally brought to a rather painful stop when I slammed my back into a tree and Quinn slapped into my chest.

"Fuck me, that fucking_ hurt_," I groaned, blinking away the little stars circling overhead.

Quinn moaned as she pushed off me, sat up, put her hands on her head as though to steady it. As the others came running down the hill for us (besides Lena, who was waddling), I noticed a cut on Quinn's right cheekbone. It was small, but the blood was beaming holly-red.

"Oh, Quinn." I started to reach for her, concerned, but she scrambled to her feet. Her cheeks were flaming in embarrassment.

"Are you guys okay?"

"Oh my God, are you alright?"

Hands buffeted me as I was helped up, but my eyes were only on Quinn. I felt horrible for her, just because she looked so...tired. That was it. She always looked tired now. When she was nineteen she hadn't been. She'd been full of life, full of energy. Now, she just seemed...exhausted. All the time.

I couldn't help but to wonder why.

Nothing particularly exciting happened during the rest of the trip. Afterward, when we collapsed back at the house, exhausted, everyone went to sleep. I alone was the only one awake, and I laid there for quite some time, thinking. _Some camping trip,_ I thought with a mental snort. More like a vacation. Then again, as everyone here was pretty much a hell of a lot richer me—which was saying a lot, since I hadn't exactly been terribly poor anyway—I supposed luxury was a given.

Rolling over in my makeshift bed on the floor, I watched Quinn sleep for a time. My eyes lingered over the small cut on her cheek. She had great cheekbones. She had great everything, actually. Her golden hair was spread out over her pillow in soft, choppy tresses. I resisted the urge to reach over and touch one. I was curious about her. Very curious.

How different was she from the nineteen-year old I had known? I could already tell she was by far more mature. More in control of herself. More bitter. And apparently had resumed her old habit of drinking every now and then, though I hadn't known her in that stage of her life either.

But what else had changed? Was she still as fun? So far she hadn't been, besides at Twister, but she'd been half-drunk then. Was she still as guarded? Definitely. More so, I would say. When I was in the bathroom with her last night, she'd been careful not to touch me. The old Quinn would've shoved me onto the toilet and straddled me. Of course, contradictorily, the old Quinn had also been a virgin. Pure. Untouched. This Quinn...well, she couldn't be. I felt surprised as jealousy heated my blood. I didn't want to think about anyone touching her. Even now.

_I _wanted to touch her.

But how selfish was that? I only wanted to because I couldn't, and because of sheer curiosity. I definitely wanted to kiss her again. _Would she taste the same?_

It took me hours to fall asleep. Though Quinn was fast asleep a good ten feet away from me, it felt as though her scent, that tantalizing scent of sunlight, flowers and vanilla, was haunting me.


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: Thank you guys so much for the reviews/follows/favorites! They mean so much to me, you have no idea! :) **

**I'm trying to keep updating frequently, despite my classes and my job. This is most important, right? ;) Hehe.**

Enjoy!

**Chapter 8**

* * *

**Quinn's POV**

I was the first to wake. In the silence of early morning, I tiptoed my way into the kitchen, briefly considered tasting coffee before thinking the better of it. Besides, the smell would probably wake the others. Instead I fixed myself a cold glass of apple juice and walked back into the living room, content on being a creeper and watching everyone while they slept.

Lena and Bryant were every bit as cute as Tony and Shelby, I mused. Both couples slept with their arms around each other. And, I realized with a jolt of amusement, Puck slept between Claire and Rhiannon, who were cuddled up to either sides of him. Sam was on the other side of Claire, curled up into a ball, which for some reason I found to be even more amusing.

Last and determined to be least...I studied Santana. She was tempting, with the curves of her breasts exposed in the tank top she wore, that steadily rose and fell with each breath, with her dark hair that was fanned out over her pillow, with strands that had fallen over her face with a sort of casual sexuality that both stirred me up and made me think back to when her hair had been even longer. She'd been so much slimmer at nineteen, too. I wouldn't be surprised if she had grown an inch or too since then as well. People always told me that I would stop growing at around eighteen, but it hadn't been true. And Santana, I wouldn't have been able to believe it, but she was even more beautiful now. She'd became a lot more appealing. _Tempting,_ I thought again. _Too tempting._

I shook my head suddenly. Shouldn't be thinking of her. I picked my way past everyone, headed outside. Breathed in the crisp morning air.

The sun was still hazy, but such a pretty bright smear on the horizon of leafy green trees. The stars were still out. They made me think of my mother. She had loved to look at the stars. When I was little and my mother had been alive, we'd enjoyed lying in the backyard, gazing up at the sky.

Wallowing in memories, I sat on the top step of the porch and observed the sun rise higher in the sky.

"Hey."

I jumped, my apple juice slopping over the rim of the glass. I glanced over my shoulder and felt nerves dance in my belly when I saw Santana standing in the threshold of the doorway, dragging a hand through her tumbled black hair, squinting in the light. My insides crackled as though sparked when she realized that the tank top she wore was nearly see-through. Unable to stop them, my eyes slowly traveled down, to the short shorts she wore that were zipped yet unbuttoned. I could see black lace, and realized it was the top of her underwear.

My flesh prickled as heat rose. Deliberately I turned away, faced the sky again. "You're up early," I said, pleased with how my voice remained so casual.

"Yeah. I needed to shave my legs before we hit the spa," she said, easing down beside me on the step.

I glanced over at her. Her long legs were smooth and gleaming, but her eyes were still heavy with sleep. She wore no makeup, yet she still looked flawless. Her lashes were the Latina kind that made me so jealous because of how long and thick and luxurious they were. "The water didn't wake you up?"

She shook her head, running a hand through her hair again, patting it down as though she were self-conscious of her bedhead. _She doesn't even realize how sexy that messy hair is….fuck, _don't_ think like that._ "A little. I think I was half-asleep while I brushed my teeth."

I ran my eyes over her legs again. "You must've woken up some, otherwise you'd have cut yourself."

She smiled, touched a finger to the cut on my cheek. _How did I feel a thrill at such a simple, brief touch? _"If I had, we would've matched in a way." Then she shrugged. My body hummed as I watched the muscles in her bare shoulders ripple. Santana was so lean, an athlete's body. It drove me crazy, even six years later... I stared at the sky once more. "I'm so used to it, I barely notice as I do it now. Like driving. Sometimes I get home from work and don't remember how I got there."

I recognized the line from a show I'd watched last week. I eyed her in amusement. "Been watching Gray's Anatomy lately?"

She grinned. "Dr. B's my future wife. And Merideth. And Cristina and Izzie and Lexie."

"I believe polygamy is frowned upon these days," I said dryly, causing her to laugh.

"So why are you up this early, then?" she asked when we sobered.

I lifted my shoulders, let them fall. "I dunno. I wake up right before the sun rises a lot. Maybe because I love to watch."

She smiled as she looked up at the sky. "Sometimes in New York, it feels like I can barely see the sky. It really is something, isn't it?"

"Something," I agreed. We sat in companionable silence for awhile.

Or so it seemed.

No, inside, I was hyper-aware of her. I wished she would button those shorts. How rude was that, to be half-naked beside me? The tank she wore was so thin, I could practically see the outline of her abs in them.

"Any particular reason you keep glancing at me out of the corners of your eyes?" Santana said suddenly.

Her cheeks burned. "I don't—"

"It's okay," she interrupted. "I'm glancing at you, too. I'm curious. What would you do if I kissed you, Q?"

I looked at her in shock. _How dare she be so forward._ "I—" I didn't know what to say. _What could you say to that?_ I chose instead to dignify it with no comment.

"Maybe you'd like it," she said in amusement, reaching over to toy with a few strands of my hair. I cringed away, but instead of dropping her hand, Santana merely slid it to my wrist. "I think you would."

"We decided to avoid each other, remember?" I reminded her, inching away.

She inched right back toward me. "I know. But like I said. I'm curious."

I stiffened when she slid her hand up to cup the back of my neck. "I don't—"

"If you don't want to, then just hold still," she said patiently. "It's just a kiss."

She bent her head, lowered her mouth onto mine. My heart fluttered in my chest. Her lips were so soft, inviting. I parted mine for her without even thinking about it. Her tongue swept against hers, one lazy sweep. And then it shifted into something darker.

She didn't have to wrap her arm around me, bring me closer to her. I moved into her. I managed to set my glass of apple juice down on the step above us before I locked my arms around her neck. Plunged one hand into her thick hair, finally. Used the other hand to grip her shoulder. My fingers dug in as she angled her head, deepening the kiss until even I could hear the purr in my throat.

_Oh yes_, I thought. _Santana Lopez had definitely grown up._

Her hands seemed to blister my skin as they pressed against the small of my back. Her mouth was conquering mine. She made me ache, everywhere.

She didn't draw back until we both heard the clatter from inside the house. Someone in the kitchen had dropped something.

Our faces hardly an inch apart, we both stared, out of breath, troubled. Both troubled with what I was sure we were both at that moment telling ourselves:_ this was too big to ignore._


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

* * *

**Santana's POV**

Quinn's eyes were huge, emerald-gold, and luminous. Her cheeks were flushed. Her lips were slightly swollen from the kiss we just shared.

She was so completely, utterly glorious, and so, so tempting.

"Um..." She closed her eyes, obviously reaching for some shred of coherent thought. The tip of her tongue moistened her lips. Unable to stop myself, I moved forward, closed my teeth over it.

I swallowed her moan, stifling my own. Her hand on my shoulder flexed open, gripped again.

I could hear voices from the house. Everyone was waking and getting around. I withdrew a little, and would have brushed away the hair that had fallen over her eyes if I hadn't been so dazed.

"You taste like apples," I murmured.

Her hand bore down on me as though she were using me to steady herself. "Apple juice," she managed to say.

We both jumped about ten feet apart when the front door burst open. Luckily, Sam had been looking back over his shoulder, laughing at some joke someone had said, so he didn't see us lunge away from each other. Unfortunately, that also meant he hadn't seen the glass of apple juice sitting before his foot. Glass crunched and liquid spilled when he stepped on it.

"Oh shit, I'm sorry. Whose was that?" he asked, shaking his foot and flinging droplets of juice onto Quinn and I.

"Mine," said Quinn, her voice faint.

A crease appeared between Sam's brows. He bent, peered at Quinn, who turned her head so that her hair swung forward to hide her face from view. "Are you okay?"

She nodded before quickly standing. "Fine. I just...Jet-lag," she said suddenly as the thought came to her. Her face was scarlet. Glancing my way once, she backed toward the front door. "I'm going to go...sleep some more. 'Bye."

As the door closed, Sam turned toward me, frowning. "What did you do?" he said reproachfully.

I shook my head. "Couldn't tell you," I lied.

Sam and I had not been close in high school. Although I admittedly did use him once or twice as a beard, I hadn't been able to take kissing him. His mouth was just too…big for me. In all honesty, I had always admired it the way a gay man did; I mean, just look at the potential. From a girl's perspective, however, with a big mouth but an average tongue, it really wasn't extraordinary to me. Then, when he started making dopey eyes at Brittany when we'd been dating, that had really pissed me off, and I had no choice but to constantly ridicule him. By providing the school with the mocking nickname of "Trouty Mouth," I had indeed gotten my revenge. Of course, considering Sam was one of the stars of the football team and popularity came with the title, it hadn't lasted too long.

After high school, evidently Sam had gone to a community college, paying for it by putting on shows as an exotic dancer at a local strip joint. He'd been pretty good, apparently. Puck had lived in some shitty motel in LA, still mowing lawns and basically just wasting his time partying. He lost a lot of money when he got in too deep with some druggies, and he'd became a gambling addict on a fast track to becoming an alcoholic on top of it. He and Sam met at a club, and Sam got him a job. Not as a stripper—although Puck did tend to have ladies all over him (particularly the old cougars that liked to prowl that club), he couldn't dance to save his life. A few nights a week he would go out with his guitar and rock out while the other guys stripped around him. It had been a huge hit with the ladies, apparently.

After a few years, Sam was finally able to graduate with a degree in business. He was now a co-owner of his very own strip-club. Puck, meanwhile, had started up a program to help troubled youths by introducing music into their lives. I know, I know—hard to believe that Noah Puckerman, a boy who had once strutted around William Mckinley High school hallways wearing a Lettermen's jacket and a Mohawk like it was a congressional medal of honor, sneaking cigarettes, weed and pills to kids for cold cash, and dumping less popular students into dumpsters before class every morning. Now he was a full grown man, and although he was still a complete dumbass when it came to women, he was a good man. He rounded up the kids in the part of town we lived in, and held meetings every Monday night where he taught the kids how to play guitar and "rock out the hate". I moved out of Rachel and Kurt's apartment my junior year of Nyada. It wasn't anything personal, just that when Finn was discharged from the army and moved in, it became a little too crowded for my taste. After Blaine graduated from high school and got into Nyada, he moved in too, although it was only for a brief three months. Then he and Kurt broke up and Blaine moved out again, but either way I was already gone. I met Sam at the club when I went with some fellow Coyotes, and we got along pretty well. After a few months of our friendship, that was when I moved out of Rachel and Kurt's apartment, and into his. There was another roommate at that time, I forget his name (it was a three bedroom apartment). Miguel something. Around the time that he moved out was when Puck started working with Sam, and then he moved in, and before I knew it, I was living with Puck and Sam, who had quickly become some of my best friends.

I knew I was blessed to have the friends I did in life. Considering what a bitch I had been for most of my childhood and teenaged life, it was a miracle these people were friends with me at all. But I loved them all, I really did. I was so unbelievably proud of Rachel for being as successful as she was; the moment she set foot in New York, she had flourished. She kicked ass at the first audition she ever tried out for, and got the role of Franny Brice on Broadway. She went on to star in countless other acts, and became so praised and popular for her performances that she went on several television shows, such as Oprah, Ellen, The View, et cetera. She starred in movies alongside stars like Brad Pitt, Meryl Streep, Leonardo DiCaprio. But perhaps what made me the most proud of her was how she handled her surprise pregnancy. Although she and Finn had been dating off and on for years, when she found out she was pregnant with his child, she had not been in a relationship with him. More like a series of hookups, booty calls and immature fights. Once she found out she was pregnant (by having a miscarriage), she and Finn had grown up, matured. They dated again, and were more settled this time. When she became pregnant again, she and Finn couldn't have been happier. She gave birth to their daughter, and named her Starr. I had teased her over such a clichéd and lame name, but I guess it was fitting, in a way. She was a star herself, after all, and it only makes sense that one star would produce another. A little over a year later, she gave birth to their second child, a son who was named Christopher after Finn's deceased father, although they called him a shortened version, Topher. Rachel and Finn moved to Nebraska (When Kurt's great-aunt, Maggie, died, she left her ranch to Burt and Carol, who now live out there. Kurt bought a house out there as well, and runs his own fashion company online), and actually only live a few miles down the road from the little cabin we were all staying in right now. Rachel, Finn and their children were currently out of town for the weekend, at a Red Carpet premier, and had offered their house as a place for me to stay, but when the group had started nagging at me to "party in the cabin", I had to decline Rachel and Finn's offer.

So now here I was, leaning against the railings on the porch, my body trembling although I tried to appear calm and collected under Sam's suspicious stare. I gave him a broad grin and walked past him into the house.

Quinn was nowhere to be found in the house, but I had a sneaking suspicion that she was in the bathroom again. I needed to go to the bathroom too, or find some dark, deserted place where I could take care of matters that needed to be taken care of right now or else I was sure I would burst, or do something crazy like find Quinn, slam her against the wall and take her so hard she would be screaming my name—

_God. _My life would be so much easier if Quinn Fabray was not in it, and to be honest, she had only reentered it properly two days ago. This girl would be the death of me.

_But oh,_ I thought a few minutes later when I managed to shut myself away in the bedroom where everyone's luggage was piled ceiling-high, and I slipped a hand down my pants into the wet and throbbing_, what a sweet death it would be._


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

* * *

**Quinn's POV**

This was getting ridiculous. Here I was again, sitting on the bathroom floor. What was this, the third time? I was beginning to lose track. The worst of it was, it had only been two days!

_I was going to have to do something about this,_ I realized. I just didn't know what yet.

Tension was heavy between Santana and I for the rest of the day. Even when we were all at the spa, and everyone was cracking up at how Puck, Sam, Bryant and Tony were reacting to getting pedicures, I could barely find it in myself to force a smile. But the problem was it wasn't because I was thinking of ways to avoid Santana.

I was thinking of ways to drag Santana into some isolated, candlelit room and—

I shivered in the passenger seat of the van, and then glanced back over my shoulder at Rhiannon, Claire and Sam, who sat in the seat behind me, and peeked over their heads, where Santana, Bryant, Lena and Puck were all lounging in the back seat. We were on our way home from dinner, and it probably wasn't smart to be having such dirty thoughts in company.

After we arrived back at the house, I busied myself with the dishes in the kitchen to try to distract myself from any inappropriate thoughts.

"Need some help?" came the voice that, in my daydream, was currently whispering hot, dark things into my ear.

I cringed. _Stop thinking like that, you perv. _"Uh, I think I can handle it."

Santana's arm snaked under mine, took the plate I held in my hand and set it down on the counter. I turned to face her just as she moved forward, backing me against the cabinet. "Oh come on, Quinn." She rolled her eyes when I gaped at her. The entire front of her body was pressed against mine. I think my heart stopped in my chest. "Did you really think I'd be able to stop myself from doing this after what happened this morning?"

Then she crushed her mouth over mine before I could answer.

Though my initial reaction was to wrap myself around her, I instead froze, turned myself into an unresponsive statue. I needed sanity, not this crazy lust I was feeling.

Santana drew back, closed her eyes as though struggling to reign in whatever feeling was causing her so much turmoil. She dropped her forehead to mine in a surprisingly touching gesture. There was silence for a long moment before she said in an agitated tone, "Why do I feel like this?"

"I...Santana..." My mind was too frazzled to put together the words to tell her that I couldn't think with her surrounding me in such a stiflingly hot embrace.

"Just talk to me," she said, drawing her head back enough that she could meet my gaze. Irritation flickered across her brown-velvet eyes. "We can manage one damn conversation after all these years."

I knew she was right. I just wished she wasn't. "I know. I don't...wait." She had withdrew her hands from my waist. At my protest, she immediately replaced them, and I remembered I didn't want them there. Did I? "No. Wait. No..." I was torn. Fortunately—or unfortunately?—Santana seemed to get that, but she didn't like it.

"Make up your mind," she said impatiently.

"I'm trying," I snapped. "It's your fault."

"It's yours," she countered. "I didn't choose to want you like this. It's basic biology. You're hot, I'm hot."

"Shh," I said desperately, cupping my hand over her mouth. "What if they hear?"

Santana pulled my hand back. "They're all outside trying to make a bonfire. Let's play twenty questions."

"I—what?" I said, baffled.

"I'll go first. Do you want me?"

"Yes," I said warily, uncertain why the hell I was humoring her by participating in this stupid game. "But I don't like you."

"Which is reasonable. Your turn."

"Uh..." I stared at her for a moment before gnawing on my lower lip. "Why do you think I, um...want you so much?"

"Hmm." She studied me, contemplating. "Well, it's probably because of our history. And the whole 'forbidden' thing you set up. And because I'm fucking hot as hell."

I rolled my eyes, and then narrowed them when she inched close to me again. "Stop. I don't want to have sex with you."

"Who said we have to have sex? I just want to kiss you a little." To prove her point, she ducked her head, trailed her lips along my jaw.

I couldn't suppress a little shiver. "I get turned on easily. Being 'kissed some' by someone 'hot as hell' that I have 'forbidden history' with will definitely turn me on. And then we'll have sex."

She shook her head, her soft dark hair brushing my cheek. "I'll stop it before it goes that far."

I laughed out loud at that one. "You wouldn't. Trust me."

"Well, fine." Amusement layered her tone, and I could tell by the confidence shining in her eyes that she knew very well when to stop things before they went too far, and when to start them up again, and just how to torture someone until they—_stop fucking thinking like that._ "We just won't kiss then," continued Santana as she moved her to my ear, scraped her teeth across it. Flames licked at the insides of my stomach.

"Fine." I closed my eyes, listening to my heart pound as she made a blistering trail to my other ear.

_Oh, fuck this._

I seized her by the hair, yanked her to me.

Her hands gripped my hips as our mouths clashed. I was frantically debating how much time it would take and whether Lena and the rest would interrupt when, sadly, speak of the devil, Tony's booming laugh floated through the front door and Santana and I ripped apart.

"Midnight," I gasped, bracing myself against the countertop.

"What?" panted Santana.

"Meet me in here at midnight."

Our gazes met, and heat seemed to channel between us. Then Tony and Sam walked in, chatting animatedly, and I returned to the dishes as Santana left.

I closed my eyes once more as my heart slowly began to beat normally.

_Midnight._


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**

* * *

**Santana's POV**

Excitement thrummed in my stomach. Was Quinn really going to go through with this? I had my doubts.

Fortunately, Quinn was a woman of her word.

I had been sitting at the kitchen table at a quarter past midnight when she finally crept into the kitchen. However, her thoughts seemed to be far from me. She headed straight for the fridge.

_Quinn Fabray,_ I thought in vague amusement as she opened the fridge, glanced over her shoulder guiltily. Reached for the bottle of wine she'd left in there after dinner. She'd said she wasn't an alcoholic. However, I was sure she was on the fast track to becoming one, at least because of the telltale signs of her dependence on it when things got a little too…stressful, for her.

Quinn sighed quietly in relief as she took a gulp. I could notice nothing, not even how stunning she looked in the light spilling out from the fridge. All I could think of was how much I wanted her.

Silent as a ghost, I crept up behind her. Drew a gasp from her when I gripped her waist, spun her around and pressed her back to the fridge hard enough that her already half-gone wine slopped over the rim of the bottle and splattered onto the white tile of the kitchen floor. "What the hell?" Her voice was thick, husky, which meant my libido was plunged into an electric dance. It also meant she'd probably risen from sleep not five minutes ago, and was more than a little breathy from the wine and my surprise attack. I saw the glint of her white teeth even in the dim light.

"Someone's going to need to sign up for those A.A. meetings," I murmured, lowering my head to brush my lips across her neck.

"Ha." She pushed my head back up with two firm fingers on my chin. Still smiling that superior smile, she lifted the bottle of wine, shook it slightly. "I like to think holiday forgiveness. I mean really, Santana. What would Jesus do?"

"That doesn't even make sense. It's nearly August. Nowhere near any holidays. And hopefully not the same thing I'm wanting to do to you," I added, grinning at her when I felt the little shiver of excitement rush through her body.

"Hopefully not," she agreed, lifting the wine and taking a swig as though it were a bottle of beer rather than fine drink. "That would be rather unGodly, I think."

I had to admit, I was impressed her voice could stay so level and casual.

"Yeah. I think it'd probably be a sin." I kept my tone as light as hers as I dipped my head down again, managed to trail a line of kisses from my jaw to my shoulder. Despite her nonchalant attitude, she fidgeted a little, clutched me closer and made a low noise of appreciation in the back of her throat.

"So," she said, swallowing hard in an obvious attempt to get her bearings. "Where were you tonight?" she asked, referring to when I had disappeared for a time between nine and eleven.

"Watering my friend's plants for them," I replied softly, moving my head to scrape my teeth across her earlobe, just as I had earlier tonight. "Why?"

The corners of her lips curved upward. "I've been thinking about what we could get away with behind the excuses of holiday spirit."

"It's not a holiday," I reminded her. "But what did you have in mind?"

Her hazel eyes speculative on me, she lifted her free hand, placed it on my shoulder. She gave me one long, slow kiss that had my insides smoldering. She tasted of woman and of wine, a blend I long ago found I quite liked.

"Mmm. The unrevealing of presents. Giving them to one another. Unwrapping them." She nipped at my lower lip. "Thanking each other for them."

_Oh, fuckity fuck fuck._ No way was I going to remind her that it was _not a holiday, _let alone the fact that it was nowhere near Christmas. The woman made a loony drunk, but at the moment I couldn't care less. I'd play along. "Huh. Well, if I had known you were in the mood for such holiday activities, I would've postponed my meeting with Rachel's plants, and…" I deepened the kiss as I slid my hand farther below her back. "Indulged."

She pulled her mouth from mine long enough to fix it on the wine, take another drink. "It's a shame we only have an hour till dawn," I noted, jerking my head and gesturing to the time on the stove. "If we had more time, we could do that present thing."

"But we don't." She briefly turned back, set her bottle on the counter. Turned again and locked her arms around my neck. "So we better make up for it."

_ Yes!_ A spark of excitement flared in my stomach. Then more, as Quinn yanked me closer, fused her mouth to mine.

I felt the shiver again, as I slipped my hands just under her shirt and felt the warm, unbelievably smooth skin of her waist. Felt the shiver once more as I slid my hands up, up, _up. _

"I'm not wearing anything under this," she murmured, sounding almost absent-minded as she kissed me.

"I noticed," I replied in the same tone, smirking when she took a sharp intake of breath after I gripped.

"No," she said breathlessly, tilting her head and giving the kiss a new angle. "I mean all of it."

When I realized what she was talking about, I glanced down, spotted the tiny aquamarine shorts she wore. I stifled a groan.

"What?" she said, and anyone could hear the amusement layered within her feigned innocent tone.

"You knew I would jump you," I accused

Smiling a little, she nodded. "Of course I did. I'm always prepared. So…" She leaned forward, rubbed her smile across mine. "Mmm. Want to go put this preparation to good use?"

I craned my head back to peer into the living room. Lena and Bryant were nearest us while Tony and Shelby slept near the fireplace. "Um...where are we supposed to do that at, exactly?"

She tugged on my sleeve to bring me back for another kiss. "There's the storage room."

"No. We'd wake them."

"I promise I'll be very, very quiet," she whispered, still smiling.

I shook my head. "No. You will be very, very loud. Screams will occur consistently." I sank my teeth into the full pout of her lower lip. "I promise."

"Hmm..." She contemplated as I kissed the underside of her jaw. "How about your car? Or the van. The van is roomier."

My grin broadened. "That is a good idea. Why didn't I think of that?"

She smirked at me. "Lopez, you should know that by now, I'm always the one with the good ideas."

I laughed quietly, pulling her back and taking her hand in mine. "I'm about to show you just how good my good ideas really are."

Her stride was even with mine as we maneuvered our way through the living room and toward the front door, taking care to weave our way around our sleeping friends.

The cold night air seemed to cut at us. I almost felt sorry for Quinn, in the small amount of clothes she wore. And then we were in the backseat of the van car, and she was slithering onto my lap, and I forgot everything. She pulled my shirt off me almost immediately, and I moaned as I felt her thumbs move over the lace of my bra. Fire seemed to be whirling around in my body, overheating my skin and melting my mind. _Which was definitely not a bad thing. _

"Here," she breathed, handing me the bottom of her shirt. I bunched it up, clenched it in my fist. "Want me to help you take it off?" she murmured against my lips.

I fisted my free hand in her hair, turned her to face me. "In a minute. I want to take my time."

As lips met, Quinn half opened her hazy eyes, and through the window she saw the front door opening. With a loud gasp, she lunged off my lap. I nearly fell onto the floor. "What? What?"

"Oh my God! Lena's out here!" Quinn sounded half insane as she whirled around in shock.

"What—"

"Shut up, shut up!" She clapped her hands on her head, looked around wildly. "Oh my God, she can't see us together!" She suddenly slammed her palm, hard, into my shoulder. "Think of a plan, moron!"

I scowled, pulling back on my shirt. Thank God for tinted windows. "Don't be a bitch. How's that for a plan?"

"I don't have the time for this," she snarled. "Get in the drivers seat." When I didn't move, she practically bared her teeth at me. "_Move_ your _ass_. Now!"

"_Kiss_ my fucking _ass_," I hissed back at her, but I moved.

Seconds later, Lena tapped on the window. I rolled it down, giving her what I hoped was a pleasant smile. "You're up extremely early, Lena."

Her brows were raised high. "You too, Santana. Quinn." she added, peering over the head of my chair. "What are you two doing?"

There was a cool, calm smile on Quinn's face. "We were just about to drive into town for a coffee. Want to come?"

Lena's frown deepened. "You don't like coffee."

I watched Quinn stiffen in the rearview mirror. She'd done a good job of acting casual, what with the way she lounged in the back and her feet were propped up on the passenger chair. But her face was scarlet.

"The coffee's for me," I chimed in. "She's getting doughnuts."

Lena's eyes were narrowed, and I realized that she was too perceptive to believe our bullshit.

_Oh, hell._ We'd really stepped in it now. We were so screwed. Lena was definitely not going to believe our pathetic facade.

So I played the _in-a-hurry_ card. "Look, I'm really thirsty. Are you coming or not?"

Lena straightened, folding her arms over her chest. "You might need the keys if you're leaving, you know. They're sitting on the kitchen counter."

I balked. Then annoyance flooded through the mortification. I shot Quinn a murderous glance in the mirror before undoing my seatbelt and opening the door. "Right. Thanks. I'll go get them now."

As I walked away, Lena slipped into my spot and turned to give Quinn a broad grin.

_Good,_ I thought brusquely. I hoped Quinn would flounder. She left me floundering all the time, so maybe she'd get a taste of her own medicine.


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12**

* * *

**Quinn's POV**

As Santana marched away, Lena took her spot and turned in the seat to grin tauntingly at me.

"You and Santana, huh?"

"Hell no," I said a little too quickly. "I hate her."

"It didn't seem like you hated her yesterday morning when you were shoving your tongue down her throat on the front porch."

I wished I could just sink right through the car and into the ground. "You saw that?"

"Why would I know that if I hadn't saw it," she reasoned patiently. "I could tell you liked it."

"I was drunk," I snapped.

"Buzzed," corrected Lena. She pointed a finger at me. "You two were going to drive out to the woods to have secret sex. Admit it!"'

"No," I insisted, though there was a note of hopelessness that was detectable in my voice now. "Why would I want to have sex with _her_?"

Lena gave me a look that suggested she thought I was either insane, incredibly stupid, or both. "Uh, maybe because she's gorgeous and she wants you?"

"She doesn't want me," I grumbled, but I looked away from Lena.

Lena stared at me shrewdly for a moment, before finally declaring, "I bet you fifty dollars that you aren't wearing any underwear."

My cheeks flamed red. "No."

Lena lunged forward, causing me to give a little feminine squeal as we fell into the back and Lena straddled me, her pregnant belly pushing me down and reminding me not to fight back. Furious that I couldn't do anything, I lay there as Lena tugged on the collar of my shirt and peered down. "Hah!" she said happily.

"Shut up," I said sourly, gently pushing Lena off me so I could sit up.

Lena was immensely gleeful, practically bouncing up and down in her seat. "You were! I knew it!" Her face suddenly fell, and she stilled. "And I just ruined that."

I gave a haughty sniff and looked out the window, refusing to even speak.

"Aw, Quinn." Lena scooted closer to me. "You can still—"

"Alright, so I take it you're coming?" Santana had arrived.

"I changed my mind, I'm staying here," I said, and climbed out of the car and slammed the door behind me.

* * *

**A/N: Hey guys! So I understand this is a SUPER short chapter but I've had so many people asking me if I'm going to update I decided to just go ahead and post this to let you guys know: I AM going to update. Things are super busy right now, what with my job, going back to college, my new baby sister and the fact that I'm also going to be a step-aunt in just three and a half months, on top of the fact that my girlfriend has went back to college and her soccer games have started up again so I'm trying to make the three hour drive up to watch them, etc. I'll be going back to college myself in less than two weeks. Needless to say, things are a little hectic, but I promise I am definitely going to update this story, and I'll be updating Fate on Fire, my other Quinntana fanfiction, too for those of you that read that also. Hopefully the updates should be out within the next day or two! (I'm trying to update today, as a matter of fact, but I have work so we'll see how that goes). **  
**As always, thank you guys so much for your support and understanding :) I love you all!**


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13 **

* * *

**Santana's POV**

It was the last night of our trip. Everyone was enjoying themselves, particularly Puck and Rhiannon, who was constantly making out in the corner of the cabin, and when they weren't doing that, Rhiannon was obsessively running her hand over Puck's shaved head. Sam and Claire were discussing Star Wars (Claire was a fan too), Lena and Bryant were constantly cooing over her belly, Tony and Shelby were playing cards, and Quinn was, of course, giving me the cold shoulder. Like usual.

We were the awkward ones. We sat on opposite ends of the room, me sitting on the recliner and her perched on one of the bar stools in the kitchen. I couldn't be positive because she was too far away to tell, but I think we were both playing Angry Birds on our phones. Which was a little funny, to be honest.

This whole situation was just ridiculous. I couldn't help the fact that I was attracted to her anymore than she could help that she was attracted to me. So why did things have to be so uncomfortable?

_Because six years ago I cheated on her with her sister, called her a whore, and didn't believe her explanations for something that truly did not happen the way it appeared to._

Oh. Right. That's why.

I sighed, turning my phone off and slipping it back into my pocket, and then studied Quinn. Her back was to me, but it was at least nice to observe her choppy golden tresses. So much shorter than they'd been years ago. It really suited her, though.

Oh, this was ridiculous. We were grown adults. We could at least handle being friendly to one another, right?

I stood up and walked over to her, slipping into the chair next to hers. She glanced warily at me, and then ignored me, returning her attention to her phone. She was indeed playing angry birds.

"Hey," I said. When she didn't answer, I leaned toward her, said it again. "Hey."

"What do you want?" she snapped, her voice low and defensive as she glared at me. I swallowed, making it an effort to keep things light and casual. I didn't want to get into an argument with her.

"I just want to talk," I said, lifting my palms up. Quinn glared at me for a moment longer, then relaxed, sighing. She put her phone away.

"Alright, fine," she said heavily. "Ignoring you takes too much energy anyway."

I tentatively smiled. "Okay then…Tell me about your life."

"What about it?" She perched her elbow on the countertop, and cupped the side of her face in her hand. Her eyebrows were slightly raised as she looked at me; she looked bored with little patience. She obviously didn't want to be talking to me. But I was going to push on anyway.

"What was life like in Alaska?"

"Cold."

She said it so shortly and easily that it perturbed me. My facial expression must have amused her, because before we knew it, we were both laughing.

"Cold, huh?" I grinned.

"It was the first thing that came to mind," she chuckled.

"Do you like living there, though?"

"Did I," she corrected. "I don't live there anymore."

"Oh, yeah, I forgot you've officially moved back now."

"Yep. And I did, for a time. When I actually liked the people I was seeing on a daily basis there, anyway."

"Right…your fiancé?" I guessed, although it was a little awkward to bring it up. Not really sure why…probably because I just didn't like the sound of her dating. Anyone. Besides me.

"Ex," she corrected me again, smiling when I rolled my eyes.

"Technicalities."

"Big ones."

I rolled my eyes again at her smart-alecness. "So, what was he like?"

She shrugged. "He was nice. At first. Before he cheated on me, anyway. Then he was a dick."

I laughed. I'd heard all about how he cheated on her from Tony and Lena last night after Quinn went to bed, and we were all still outside roasting smores. "How did you even meet him, anyway?"

"He was on the academic board at my school. One of my bosses, I guess. We met at a scholastic marathon meeting. Austin Stark, probably the richest man in Anchorage. Not as rich as me, though he never knew that," she winked, and I laughed again. "I'm glad I never told him that. Probably would have hid his cheating a lot better."

"Probably," I agreed. "Men are assholes."

"So are women," she ventured boldly.

I was reminded of how I cheated on her six years ago with her own sister, and I cleared my throat, uncomfortable yet again. "True," I nodded. "But at least women are compassionate and intelligent enough to recognize their mistakes and regret them."

She shrugged. "Eh."

"Hey." I lowered my voice, reached over and put my hand on her arm. I ignored how she just shook it off. "I've told you already, and I'll tell you again. I'm really sorry."

"And I told you, I forgive you," she said firmly.

"No you don't. If you forgave me, you wouldn't be so bitter and resentful toward me."

"Have you ever thought about maybe I'm bitter and resentful toward who you are now, more so than who you were then? I'm over what you did back then. What annoys me now, is how you just keep trying to pull me back into it."

I blinked at her. "I'm not trying to pull you back into anything. I just want to be friends with you. I can't help it if I want you too, but if you don't want me, then fine."

"I don't want to want you," she whispered, glancing around furtively to make sure no one was listening to our conversation. Fortunately, no one was.

"So don't, then."

"As if I can help that!"

"Q, just relax. We don't have to do anything about it. We'll just get over it with time."

"Sure," she muttered. She wasn't stupid. It had been six years, after all, and I still wasn't over how much I wanted her.

"Can't we be friends?" I lamented, putting my hand on her arm again. This time she didn't move it.

She observed me for a moment, her hazel eyes intent on my face. Then she nodded, slowly. "Yeah. I just feel like…this thing is always in the way of it." She gestured at herself with both hands.

"I know what you mean. Maybe it'll go away eventually, though. For now, lets just concentrate on being friendly, okay?"

She nodded in agreement. "Okay."

"I don't break my promises, Q. And I promise you; I'll be here for you. No matter what happens, no matter what kind of trouble you're in, I'll be here to help you out. Even if it's only to give you company," I vowed.

The corners of her plump lips tilted up. "I promise the same back to you."

"Pinky it?" I said, lifting my finger up.

She rolled her eyes. "God, what are we, twelve?" But she didn't hesitate to hook her pinky around mine. "Pinky promise."

"Hey, guys!" Tony called from across the room. "Get over here!"

Quinn and I stood up and walked to the table Tony and Shelby sat in at the same time as Lena, Bryant, Sam and Claire. Rhiannon was still untangling herself from Puck's arms and climbing off his lap.

Tony gave us all his best-wicked grin as he lifted the cards. "Strip-poker, anyone?"

The game was hilarious. By the end of the night, both Sam and Puck were stripped down to boxers and socks, Tony and Shelby had only lost their shoes (they were both fairly skilled poker players), Bryant was in his shirt and boxers, Claire had lost her shirt, and Rhiannon was down to her bra and underwear. I kind of think she was losing her clothes on purpose, just to drive Puck crazy.

Quinn, meanwhile, was driving me crazy herself. She'd only lost her shoes and pants, but just the fact that she was wearing only thin little panties and a shirt made me all kinds of hot. I would be an idiot not to notice her eyes on me. I had lost my pants too, and my shoes and socks. I had just been dealt a hand that caused me to lose my shirt, and as I pulled it over my head, I felt the way her eyes, gone a much darker shade of hazel, were lingering on my breasts. _Fuck, how were we supposed to be friends when she looked at me that way?_

Lena, meanwhile, seemed to notice. I saw the way her eyes flitted between Quinn and I on more than one occasion, and how there was the ghost of a smile on her face. That could just be because of Bryant gaping at her, though. Lena and Quinn were both pretty good at poker too, probably because of all the times they'd ever played it with Tony and Shelby. But Lena had lost her shirt, and thanks to being pregnant, her breasts were huge. I even caught Puck and Sam staring a few times, and had to wonder if Rhiannon and Claire noticed. If they did, they obviously didn't care.

By the time we finished up the game, only Rhiannon had gotten completely naked, and she was exposed only for about a minute before Puck scooped her up and whisked her away for the bathroom, claiming they needed a shower to cool off. Everyone laughed, aware that things definitely weren't about to just cool off between them, and if anything were effectively about to heat up.

Quinn was now boldly staring at me as I pulled my shirt back over my head and tugged my pants on. Sometime in the middle of the game she had gotten a couple bottles of wine out of the fridge, and they had clearly rid her of any inhibitions because she was practically eye fucking me as she continuously brought the bottle up to her lips. That night, when we all went to bed, I honestly wouldn't have been surprised if she had pounced on me. I wanted to do it to her, after all. But she didn't. The next morning, when we set off for home, I noticed that her gaze was still fixed on me, though, and was still full of the same heat from last night, if not more.

Fuck me if I didn't know how the hell I was supposed to return to everyday life when Quinn Fabray's eyes were burning into me right now.


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter 14**

* * *

**Quinn's POV**

I had been home (well actually at Janelle's house) for only two days apart from Santana.

And I was about to go _insane._ I knew it was stupid, but I felt like making love with her was an obstacle I needed to get through with in order to move on in life. As though that was our unfinished business, and that it _needed _to be finished.

As I paced back and forth in my room (at nearly eleven o'clock at night, too), I dragged a hand through my golden hair, agitated beyond belief. Should I walk over to Santana's apartment? She only lived right down the street. Should I wait and see if she comes to me? What should I do? _What should I do?_

Well for now, I could do this. I retrieved a bottle of champagne from the wine cabinet.

An hour later, I decided, _hell yeah_ I was going over there. Time to get it _over with._

Anticipation making me grin, I threw on some clothes and hurried over to Santana's. As expected, she looked stunned when she opened the door. When I saw her, all at once I felt my confidence evaporate, even despite the bottle of champagne that warmed my belly. This was _Santana. _

"What are you doing here?" she said, baffled as she closed the door behind me.

I stared at her. She looked so beautiful, so sexy, so…perfect_. _Every muscle in my body tightened. "Um..."

Her brows drew together as she studied me, absently rubbing a hand through her raven hair. God, she looked so unbelievably good. Blood rushed. I needed her. _Now. _

"Santana, I..." I closed my eyes, trembling as she stepped closer.

"You what?" She put her hands on my shoulders, bent her head to peer into my eyes. She looked concerned. My stomach tightened even more so. "Why'd you come here?"

My head was spinning. I shouldn't have drunk that wine. I shouldn't have come here at all. I knew it even as I lifted my shaking hands, slipped them into her hair, gripped. Comprehension flickered in her eyes. Her mouth thinned in grim determination. "No, Quinn," she said sternly, pushing me back, but I held onto her hair like a child. "Ow, " she muttered, and tried, gently, to pry my hands off. I wouldn't budge. In fact, I drew her even closer, to where my cheek was pressed against hers. "Not like this," she said pleadingly, placing her hands over mine.

"I can't have it any other way. So this'll do." I angled my head and lay my lips over hers.

She immediately parted her lips, immediately plunged me into a kiss so deep, so dark, that I felt my knees give. Santana wouldn't have that, of course. She wrapped those solid arms around my back, lifted my off my feet. Slid her lips hungrily down my throat. My breath caught as my muscles went rigid. All at once, I lost the dazed languidity the wine had given me. All at once, I was overcome by rushing, raging desire. I had to have her _now. _

She bruised me as she groped for my shirt, caught short when she was deterred in the removal of my pants by the gleaming silver belt I wore. My nails raked her skin as I tugged her shirt out of her shorts, desperate to feel flesh. Her abdominal muscles were rock-hard as I flatted my palms against them before sliding up, then down, down, down.

"You better not...hold this...against me," she murmured as she slid my belt out of its loops and inched my pants down. I stumbled in my haste to hurry it along, and as a result I staggered back, slamming myself into the wall. Then she was crushing me against it and I didn't care.

"I won't." My body seemed to vibrate with demand. I kissed her greedily, running my lips all over her face.

"Promise?" she panted against my lips.

"What?" I asked, unable to form coherent thoughts. All I could do was watch her standing there in front of me, her chest rising and falling rapidly, the swell of her caramel breasts exposed in her thin tank top, her body already covered in a thin sheen of sweat. Though she was half-dappled in the moonlight spilling in from the windows, I could see her eyes clearly. They were nearly black. Unable to even consider stopping myself, I grabbed her by the waist, heaved her to me. She set to work on my shoulder, using tongue and teeth to make me fist my hands and put them on the wall for support.

"Promise me. Promise—"

"Okay. I promise." I lifted my head, closed my mouth over hers. "I can't wait. Santana," I half-begged, cupping her face in my hands. "Don't make me wait any more. I can't wait any more."

I felt my heart pounding against my own as she buried her face in my hair, reaching for me, lifting me even as I closed my eyes. Her hand slipped down my pants.

_Why did we...?_

And then all thoughts ceased.

* * *

** Santana's POV**

Sometime in the middle of the night, I woke. Fuck, my heart was still beating fast. Rubbing the heel of my hand over my chest hard in a useless effort to steady it, I turned my head to take in the most beautiful sight I'd ever seen.

Quinn was on my right side, fast asleep. Her curvy, slender body was half-sprawled over mine, one of her long legs thrown carelessly over my feet, one of her arms resting beneath my breasts. Her hair was splayed out across the pillows in wonderfully damp golden tangles. Her body was shining, her face glowing and peaceful as she slept. Her lips were plump, swollen, her long lashes feathered over her cheeks. Fuck, she was beautiful. I ran my hand over the arm she had draped over my torso, tracing the contours of her muscles before gently sliding down take her hand. Unconsciously, she intertwined our fingers, made a little noise of contentment in the back of her throat that sounded vaguely like a purr as she snuggled close to my side. Unable to help myself, I bent my head, brushed my lips across hers. Her breath tumbled out in a sigh.

I blew out a long breath, watching her sleep for a while until I felt myself drifting off too. This was good. This had to be good. It definitely meant I had a chance with her. That was all I could ask for.

Maybe this time, we could make it work...

I lost my train of thought as I faded into peaceful oblivion.


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter 15**

* * *

**Quinn's POV**

I awoke as suddenly as if someone had shouted into my ear. Startled, I glanced to my side, where heat was comfortably blistering my skin. My eyes widened as I realized that Santana was lying beside me. Widened even more when I glanced down...and observed that we were naked.

_ Oh God, we hadn't. _

My mind whirling, I lay there frozen as I struggled to catch up. What had happened last night? I tried the wine that had been in Janelle's liquor cabinet. It had been exquisite. I'd tried a little more...then a little more...

I closed my eyes in mortification. I must have come over here, drunk, and thrown myself at Santana. Obviously successfully, since I was lying in bed with her.

_Oh my God oh my God oh my God. _

Flickers of memory were coming back to me now, very vaguely. Her lips had felt like fire on mine, her hands like the best kind of sin as they traveled over my skin.

Panic rose inside of me, sending my already spinning head into a turn. I had to leave. I had to get away from her, from this embarrassment. I started to shift, stiffening in utter fear when she stirred, sighed in her sleep. I could not face her again. _Ever. _

As carefully as possible, I inched my way out off the bed. The world spun around me as I stood up. Clutching my head for a moment, I glanced down at my body. Geez, how long had we been at it? I absolutely ached.

Swiftly, I darted around the room plucking up various parts of the outfit I'd been wearing last night. _Oh, for God's sake. _My hot-pink lace bra was hanging on the slowly rotating ceiling fan.

Once I was dressed, I was faced with the dilemma of a missing shoe. I had no idea where it was, and it was expensive. I started to lower down in order to hunt for it under her bed, but when she stirred again, rolled over in her sleep, I realized I didn't have the time. I chewed on my bottom lip as I stared at her for a moment, contemplating on what to do. Finally, my guilt took over. I seized a pen that was lying on the floor by her desk, ripped a piece of paper out of an unused notebook that had been put away in a drawer. I jotted down a short note and carefully laid it flat on the desk where she could see it. When she sighed in her sleep again, I bolted out of the room.

* * *

**Santana's POV**

**_I'm sorry._**

**_Don't Call._**

**_-Quinn_**

That was it. That was all she had to say.

Furious, I crumpled the note in my hand. That was how little she thought of me? She used me as a means to get rid of her frustration and then she left, just like that?

Or was this really just her form of sick revenge for what I did to her six years ago?

Closing my eyes, breathing slowly out my nose, I forced myself to calm down. Nearly five minutes passed. Finally, when I opened my eyes again, I tossed the pathetic excuse for a note into the trashcan and moved for the shower.

_ Forget Quinn,_ I told myself as I stepped into the steaming water. _It's all you can do._


	16. Chapter 16

**Chapter 16**

* * *

**Quinn's POV**

The days were so long. They were seemingly endless. I tried my best to remain awake as my class sang their song at the top of their loud, off-key voices. I just wanted to go home.

Unfortunately, I couldn't. Break was about to begin, and instead of spending it by relaxing at home, I had to go to back to Nebraska. Back to Lena's. One word: _blech._

Not at her, exactly. I was just dreading seeing Santana Lopez again. Our last meeting...hadn't gone so well.

I knew how it sounded, and the answer was _yes, _of _course_ I'd tried to get out of it. But Lena could be stubborn, and...well, to put it frankly, she told me that if I missed Bryant's thirtieth birthday (yes he was six years older than her) that she would never forgive me. Therefore, I was being blackmailed into going.

It didn't help that I felt miserable. I thought I might have caught the flu from all the little kids whose idiotic parents let them attend school ill. She hated the parents almost more than the sick kids. When had I turned into such a people-hating person? I used to be so cheerful.

At half-past five that night I called to tell Lena that I might be late tomorrow because my flight had a layover. Lena wasn't happy with that, but she was grateful I was coming.

The flight back home was a long one. I had now officially quit my job in Alaska. The kids had thrown me a farewell party. I admitted I would miss them, even though they irritated me. I didn't know where I was going now. I wanted to be closer to Lena, especially since she was going to have baby Travis soon. But I didn't want to be close to Santana. And I hadn't a clue what kind of job I wanted, considering I'm sick of teaching little kids their fa-la-la's. I didn't have to be employed; I had enough money to keep me comfortable for the rest of my life. I just needed a job to take care of the boredom.

Lena looked absolutely _huge _as she came waddling out the door toward me once I arrived at her house. I'd never realized six month pregnant woman were so _big. _

"Oh my God, Quinn!" Lena shrieked as she flung her arms around me. "It has been so long!"

"Only three months," I laughed as I returned the hug. "And now I'm here to stay."

"Oh my God, that reminds me." Lena drew back, urgency in her eyes as she gripped my shoulders.

"Uh, what?" I said nervously.

"Santana moved in with Tony."

"_What?_"

"Shh shh shh," Lena hushed me, cupping my face in her hands in the way she always did when I needed to be calmed down. "She's in some sort of financial trouble, I hear. I tried to loan her money, but she wouldn't take it."

"Oh, you _didn't_!" I said, agape at the thought of Lena loaning money to Santana. I wasn't sure why, but for some reason I'd become deeply resentful of her. I wondered if it had something to do with the bitch taking advantage of me when I'd been drunk. Well, not taking advantage per say. But she could've done a hell of a lot more to stop things from happening between us. A secret little part of me thought it was just resentment at myself I was aiming at her instead; the first time I slept with a girl, and Santana of all people, and I don't even remember it…

Lena's eyes narrowed sternly. "Now, Quinn. She's is a friend of the family. If she needs help, then she will get it. Understand?"

"I thought she was living with Sam and Puckerman?" I said sullenly.

"She hasn't lived with them in a couple years. Once she opened the chain of restaurants, she got her own loft."

I had never actually had a conversation with Santana about her job, but I'd learned from Lena, who I guess had gotten pretty friendly with Santana lately, that in college, Santana had taken a few business classes and really had a knack for it. Being a good cook, she went into the food business, bought a couple restaurants and then started up a chain. She made fairly decent money out of it too, though I guess now something had happened with the job. Maybe it collapsed.

I sighed, staring up at the house behind Lena for a moment before a scary thought came to mind. "She's not here, is she?" I said in alarm.

Lena shook her head. "She's having a meeting with her bosses or something, trying to work out whatever went wrong."

I blew out a breath in relief. "Okay."

I followed Lena into her house and was greeted by cheery shouts. Tony and Shelby pulled me into hugs that had me grinning despite my uneasy stomach. I was even delighted with an "_ 'Winn!_ " given to me by Robby. I was pleasantly surprised to see Puck stroll into the kitchen, and even more surprised to see Rhiannon trailing along behind him, clutching his hand.

"Rhi! Oh my God! Are you two dating?" I asked incredulously. The infamous Rhiannon Dean never dated. She had flings. I had honestly never in my life seen her in any relationship that lasted longer than a week.

She gave me a sheepish grin. "Yeah. We have been for two months now."

"Why didn't anyone tell me this?" I demanded. Everyone just grinned back at me. "Seriously! I want to know," I insisted. "I've been feeling like hell and I'm tired and I have jet-lag so just tell me!"

Everyone snickered, ignoring me as they went on to do whatever they were doing before I had arrived. I narrowed my eyes, folding my arms over my chest. I heard a sizzle as whatever Shelby was cooking hit the frying pan. And that's when it hit me.

The smell of bacon.

My stomach rolled.

I made a mad dash for the bathroom and was violently ill for a good ten minutes before I managed to lose enough queasiness that I could stand. Ugh, God, I just wanted to get rid of whatever virus I had. Obviously the cold had made my immune system vulnerable enough to catch one of those 24-hour bugs.

There was a knock on the door, and I thought with some irony that it would be Santana. Luckily, it was only Lena.

"Quinn, Santana called and said she'll be here in half an hour. She wants to talk to you."

"Great," I moaned, turning the sink water off and turning around to instead turn on the shower. "Could you bring me my stuff? I probably smell terrible. I need a shower."

"Sure," said Lena sympathetically.

After showering and dressing, I felt a little better. But that all went away when Santana walked into the living room. God, she looked better than I remembered. Long, tanned legs exposed from a short skirt, a shimmery black blouse that showed her cleavage…I felt blood rush to my cheeks as I recalled our last meeting. I had never wanted to see her again after that. Still didn't.

"Quinn," she said upon her gaze immediately zeroing in on me. Her brows creased as though she was worried. "Would you walk with me?"

Reluctantly, I stood up. I had no choice but to follow her out the door.

It was chilly out, being December and all. As we strode onto the front lawn, I sucked in an uneasy breath. If this idiotic virus would go away, I would feel a lot better about all this. More up to it.

"So...how have you been?" asked Santana. There was the faintest note of uncertainty in her tone.

I shrugged. "'Fine, I guess. Apart from being sick the last week or so."

She wrinkled her nose. "I hate being sick."

I nodded in agreement. There was an awkward silence that seemed to swell between us as we walked on. I didn't know what to say. _Hey, yeah, I had sex with you and then left like some lesbian whore. My bad. "_Same here," I said instead. "So…what did you want to talk about?"

She took in a deep breath. "Well, I just...I didn't like how things ended with us."

I arched a brow. "Ended? Santana, we never even began."

"I know, but..." She sighed. "I feel like we never had the chance to."

When I didn't reply, merely frowned, she leaned forward in concern. "Quinn?"

"I don't even remember it. The sex," I added at her blank expression. "I don't know if it was bad or good. If we're good together."

One corner of her mouth tugged upward. "We were."

Something about her expression made me really blush. "Yeah, well. I don't remember it. At all. And I don't want to. I want to put it behind us and move on. You know we're nothing but trouble for each other."

Her expression was guarded. "That doesn't have to be a bad thing."

I lifted one shoulder, let it fall. "Either way, I don't want to deal with it." I paused when I spotted Tony waving at me from the window in the house. He was pointing at Santana. "Tony needs you in there."

Santana glanced at him over her shoulder, and then looked back at me. "Alright. I'll talk to you later, then. I guess."

I nodded, feeling like the utter bitch I'd long ago became certain I was. "Okay."

I watched her walk away for a moment until I was jerked into the shadows of the trees by a steely arm. Outraged, I turned to find out it was Lena.

"You and Santana had sex."

"Eavesdropper," I said, embarrassed and annoyed as I pulled my arm out of Lena's grip.

"And a day later you have sex with Austin?" she hissed.

An angry blush flushed my face. I immediately regretted my decision to tell Lena that. The day after Santana and I slept together, I flew back to Alaska. And the day I was back there, I called Austin and proposed a basic one-night stand. Of course he agreed to it. I told Lena about it because she's my friend and I knew she wouldn't judge me for it. Apparently, I was wrong.

"So fucking what? I'm an adult, what I do is my business."

"He's a complete asshole, Quinn! He cheated on you with five different women!"

"I'm not back with him!" I hissed back. "We just hooked up one last time."

"And did it work?" asked Lena derisively.

I balked, and it was a struggle to play dumb. "Did what work?"

"Don't act fucking stupid with me, Lucy Quinn Fabray. You only slept with him to try to forget Santana. You got under him to get over her. And it didn't fucking work. Look at you. You look terrible. And it's not because you're sick, it's because you feel guilty. You like her, more than you'll admit."

"I've been sick for a few weeks now, thank you very fucking much," I snapped. "I don't think me puking my guts up every morning has _anything_ to do with Santana Lopez. I don't even remember _being_ with her. I was drunk, it was a stupid mistake, and it never should have happened."

I waited for Lena's retort, but she was silent. I opened my mouth to snarl something else at her, but then I realized how pale she looked. "Lena?" I asked, peering into her eyes more intently.

"Quinn…you had sex with Austin," she repeated, gripping my arm again.

I shifted, uncomfortable. "So what?" I repeated, though my voice was considerably weaker now. "It was pathetic drunk sex. I don't remember it, either."

"Why can't you see it?" breathed Lena, sounding so apologetic. "You had sex with Austin. Almost three months ago. You were drunk."

I scowled defensively, uncomfortable. "Yeah, yeah, I'm a drunken whore. What's your point?"

"Oh my God, _Quinn!_ " Lena's brown eyes were wide and insistent on me. "You had a drunken one night stand with Austin! You don't remember it. You've been sick. You told me yesterday that you've gained six pounds. Did you use protection?"

I flushed as my insides went cold. It was an odd sensation. I went cold all over, yet my skin flamed. "I—I don't know. I don't remember."

Lena's lower lip quivered, and I felt a rush of gratitude because I knew that Lena was truly, deeply upset for me. "What if you're pregnant?" she whispered.

The air froze around me. My mouth fell open. All of my senses shut off. Sight, sound, smell—everything disappeared. It was me, just me, standing in shock and fear.

I was snapped to attention when Lena shook me. "You have to find out!"

Tears filled my eyes; I blinked them away furiously. I couldn't be so weak. I didn't even know for sure if I was. After all, I did take birth control to regulate my period... My breath returned, just a little. I probably wasn't pregnant. Surely, I wasn't.

_But it would make sense..._

I lost my breath again. "I'll make a doctor's appointment. Will you come with me?" My voice was shaking so badly it was hard to understand.

Lena nodded, framing my face in her hands. "Of course. But until then you need to go buy a pregnancy test."

I nodded too, wiping my nose with the back of my hand. "Yeah. I'll do it now."

_"Go."_

I began to hurry away, then spun around. "Lena. Don't mention any of this to Santana."

Lena stared at me with wide-eyes for a split-second before giving a curt jerk of her head and hurrying off.

Meanwhile, I rushed for my car.


	17. Chapter 17

**A/N: Hi guys! I thought I'd just stop by to let you know my own personal reasons for the turns and twists of this story! :)  
First off, let me start by saying it's not just something I made up on a whim- in fact, I already had this story outlined and completed before the first one, My Clarity, was ever even posted. **

**In my stories, particularly fanfictions, I like the ideas of inter lapping circles, if that makes sense. I like the idea that, although many things are different, some things happen no matter what. For example, no matter what kind of universe it is, I think certain things are destined to happen. I think Rachel is destined to be a very talented singer, no matter what universe. In this universe, Quinn is a better singer than she is in the traditional Glee universe because in this one, her mother was more supportive and encouraging living in Nebraska in a town where the church choir was more popular, therefore her mother encouraged her with musical arts, put her several music classes, etc, so Quinn's basically practiced and enjoyed singing more in this AU. Another opinion of mine is that, no matter what or how, Quinn was always meant to have a baby, whether she's 16, 25 or 30s. That's only my personal opinion of course, but I like the idea of it :) So, I've written three Quinntana fanfics on here (well technically four if you count My Clarity and You and I as separate) and they all have interlapping scenes. The pregnancy scene is one of them; if you've read Fate on Fire, you'll see the same scene where Quinn discovers whether or not she's pregnant, only with differences since it's a different universe. Some people may find it all ridiculous, but it's just something that I find neat :) **

**Anyways, enjoy! :) If you don't like a pregnancy storyline, I urge you to keep reading because this story isn't centered just on pregnancy, but a bigger overall picture: The story of Quinn and Santana :)**

**Chapter 17**

* * *

**Santana's POV**

"Santana!"

I turned slowly to face Lena; I was too depressed to move quickly. I'd been depressed for over two hours now, ever since my conversation with Quinn. To top it off, my restaurants were being shut down. What the hell was my life coming to?

I stood straighter in attention when I saw the look on Lena's face. "What's wrong? Are you okay? Is Quinn okay? What—"

"Come here." She grabbed me by the arm and dragged me into the nearest room. The minute the door swung closed, she at me and said, "Quinn may be pregnant."

Blood rushed through my ears. I was stunned. Everything felt cold. Through the shock was a bubble of jealousy that exploded within me. Furiously, I burst, "Who the fuck—"

Lena cut me off, "The day she went back to Alaska, she got together with Austin Stark, her ex. They slept together, she was drunk and she doesn't even hardly remember it. I think she's pregnant."

That stopped me dead in my tracks. I gaped at her. "Oh my God. Jesus Christ. She fucking had sex with me, then went home and had sex with another ex the next day?" Lena didn't answer, only clasped her hands together, concerned. "Oh my God," I repeated as nausea curdled in my belly. "That's…that's so messed up. And you're telling me that she was drunk for that, too? Okay you have to be really drunk not to remember—"

"She has a problem," Lena cut me off. Her brown eyes went glossy and her voice was thick as she went on. "And I mean, it's a big problem, and it makes me so—"

"A problem? She's an alcoholic," I said bleakly.

"I know," said Lena, her voice rough. "She needs…Santana, she needs help. I've been talking to Rhi and Claire about it, and Bryant, Tony, Ashleigh, and my mother. We're arranging a stay at a rehabilitation center for her. She's not—she's in a dark place," added Lena, and the tears were clearly so thick in her throat that I couldn't help but to rub her arm consolingly. "When we were kids, just teenagers, it was only parties, but she…she's always drank too much. In college, she was worse. When she started teaching at the school, she stopped the parties and just drank at home. But…she has issues with herself. I don't know what she is, I guess bisexual, but she has issues defining it. She defines herself as straight but honestly, I don't even think she's bi. She's never interested in men. There have been a few girls, but mostly…you do something to her. She likes you, and she doesn't know how to deal with it. She thinks if she's drunk enough, it gives her an excuse. Then when she's sober, she has to face it, so she tries to counteract it with Austin, and now…"

"She might be pregnant," I finished for her. I fumed for a moment, and then slowly started to come down from my rage. Dazed, I said, "Why did you tell me this? Why didn't she?"

Lena bowed her head. "I know Quinn. If she_ is_ pregnant, she's ashamed of it. She would leave, and you never would have known."

I struggled to fight through my confusion. "Why does that matter to you or to her?"

"Because it's wrong. I love Quinn, but I've come to love you too. You have a right to know."

"What right?" My mouth and my throat were dry. My voice was hoarse as I said, "It's not like it's mine."

"I know that. But…" Lena's brow furrowed. "There's something different about you. I could tell the moment I met you, at Rhiannon's house six years ago. Quinn's different around you. In a good way. You get under her skin, and she needs that. And I understand you may not be as religious as I am, but I believe that it's no coincidence God brought you and Quinn together again. So this time, you have to fight to make it work."

I was reminded of my promise to Quinn three months ago, when I told her I'd be there for her no matter what. "Where is she?"

"She is finding out as we speak. I assume she's in the bathroom, taking a test. I heard her car pull in a minute ago."

I started to turn, open the door before halting. Swiftly I spun around, embraced Lena. Her belly was hard against my waist, and it nearly brought tears to my eyes. When I drew back, she patted my shoulder in wordless support. Then I opened the door and headed for the bathroom.

* * *

**Quinn's POV**

I was ridiculously jittery as I stood in line waiting to pay for my pregnancy test.

I just couldn't understand it. I _couldn't _be pregnant. For one, I took birth control every day. For two, I didn't want kids. I taught them. That was enough for me.

What would I do if I _were _pregnant? Certainly not the idiotic thing that some of my friends that had been pregnant had done. I wouldn't go back to Austin just because I was having his child. Marriage was sure as hell out of the question. But I wouldn't keep him out of his child's life either though. And I would keep it. Of course I would keep it.

But how would I do this? I didn't know how to handle a child. I could barely tolerate them at school.

Clutching the plastic sack that contained the pregnancy test, I headed out to my car, slid in. My nerves were too fried for music, so the drive back to Lena's house was silent. Santana's car was gone, I noted in relief. So I would be able to do this in private.

Alone in the bathroom, I sat with my hand between my thighs. It wasn't that hard to pee on the thing; I was so nervous I'd been about to wet my pants anyway. I closed my eyes, trembling atop the toilet. What would I do if there was a plus sign?

Now that this was actually happening, I was thinking differently. I couldn't tell Austin. He would expect us to get together or something ridiculous like that. I would just leave if the plus sign appeared. I would pack my bags tonight and leave, go somewhere he would never look for me at.

My heart was pounding so hard. I wanted to cry. Shaking, I set the device on the counter as I wiped, flushed, stood and pulled up my jeans. I felt numb as I washed my hands. It was so quiet.

I waited the appropriate time before reaching for the test. The world seemed to freeze as I flipped it over, stared at it.

Shock sent my temples into a dull pounding. Santana suddenly burst through the door. She halted, watching me, and everything seemed suspended in slow motion as I sank to my knees, the pregnancy test rolling out from beneath my limp fingers. Still slowly, Santana bent down and picked it up. I closed my eyes so I couldn't see her expression.

_What had I done?_

* * *

**Santana's POV**

I felt my heart seize as though clenched in someone's fist as I stared down at the little device lying in my palm. Positive. It said positive. Oh God. I swayed a little and wondered if I was going to faint. Then I heard the little noise Quinn made in the back of her throat and I snapped back to attention. I knelt down beside her, gripped her shoulders. "Quinn," I said firmly, balking when my voice cracked. I cleared my throat. I tried again. "Q."

She looked up at me, her hazel eyes glassy, and I wondered if maybe she was going to faint. Then she blinked, and tears sharpened them. "I'm sorry," I told her, at a loss of anything else to say.

Her voice was hoarse as she spoke. "It's my fault. Mine. I slept with him because I was mad at you. I was mad at myself. I—"

I dropped the device and gripped her other shoulder. "Hey, I kind of caused this, didn't I? You wouldn't have slept with him if you hadn't slept with me first. And I didn't stop you. I had been drinking that night too-because I met up with my friend Brittany, do you remember her?-and we went out dancing at a club, but I was still more sober than you. I should have stopped it before it happened."

"It doesn't matter!" Quinn shook her head, squeezing more tears from her eyes. "This entire relationship is toxic. All we do is fight and we aren't even together. I'm sorry, for everything."

"Shhh," I hushed her, rubbing her arm the same way I had rubbed Lena's. Quinn's skin was cold, and when I drew my hand back, there were goosebumps there. "What are you going to do? Are…are you sure it's his?"

She nodded slowly. "He's the only guy I've slept with in ten months."

I steadied my breathing, struggling to reign in my emotions. I hated how I could feel jealousy at I time like this. I repeated, "What are you going to do?"

She bowed her head, her entire body trembling, and I wrapped an arm around her in a desperate attempt to steady it. Then she stiffened suddenly. "I'll have to move. Claire, Rhiannon—they can't see me like this!"

I tightened my grip on her, shook her slightly. She was obviously close to hysteria, if she was considering moving out of sheer embarrassment. "You are not moving," I said firmly. "You need their help and support with this."

"And I wanted a job!" she suddenly wailed.

I sat back on my heels, looked her straight in the eye. "Quinn. I'll help you."

Her face hardened, her fingers curling into fists and whitening her knuckles. "I don't need your help," she said calmly, though fury was clear in her eyes.

I leaned forward until my eyes were less than an inch away from hers. "I. Am. In. This. With. You. No matter what you say. I made you a promise, and I'm keeping it."

The fury faded at once. Her bottom lip quivered and the tears that filled her eyes finally pooled over, and I felt a pang of agony in my chest and stomach. I never been able to stand a crying Quinn. And I'd have to watch her do this for nine—well technically seven—months. I didn't even love her. I cared for her, yes. But I didn't know her well enough to love her. How was I supposed to do this? I thought of her unborn child and relaxed a little. She would be happy eventually, I knew that much at least, just because of all my friends who had kids. Rachel and Finn hadn't planned for their first child, but it had happened. And despite their terror at the beginning, they couldn't be happier now. Quinn would be happy one day; right now, however, she was terrified.

"How am I going to do this?" she whispered. "I don't know how."

I held her terrified gaze for a moment, felt my own eyes water. "You can do it, Q," I said earnestly. "You'll learn. You have to. And I'm here for you every step of the way."


	18. Chapter 18

**Chapter 18**

* * *

**Quinn's POV**

_I was nearly three months pregnant. And I hadn't even known._

Until now.

Clutching my _Coach _purse tightly between ten perfectly manicured fingers, I stared out the window of Tony's car, tight-lipped and pale. Lena sat in the passenger seat. I sat in the back. Santana was sitting beside me, her arm lightly touching mine throughout the drive. I understood her wordless support.

Tony was also silent in the driver's seat. He was stunned. So far, the only people that knew were he, Lena and Bryant. Shelby didn't even know yet.

Honestly, I thought Tony was pissed. We had known each other since we were all toddlers and he'd long come to think of me as a little sister. And now, his little sister had been knocked up. By the asshole that had cheated on me all nineteen months of our relationship.

I half hoped that he wouldn't beat the hell out of Austin. And then I also sort of hoped he would.

I knew it was all my fault. But if I had never slept with Santana, I wouldn't have felt the need to sleep with Austin… And Austin is a total dick who should have stayed far away from me.

No. That was a lame, bullshit excuse. I was the only one to blame.

"Ready?" murmured Santana as the car slowed to a stop before the building in which I was about to enter and find out for sure if I really was pregnant.

A little uncomfortable, I nodded. To be perfectly honest, I did not want Santana with me. But that couldn't be helped. Quinn, Lena and I clambered out of the car before Tony drove off to park it. Then the four of us walked slowly up the steps. We were all heavy-footed with our thoughts.

An hour and a half later, my heart was at the soles of my feet. I was pregnant.

"Is there any way to...like, when can I find out what it is?" I asked Lena once the doctor left the room.

Lena idly brushed a hand through my hair. It was straight today, a shimmering golden sheet. "I would wait, honey. You don't need so much news at once."

I nodded. Lena was right. I already felt nauseous. Unable to stop myself, I glanced at the door. Santana was sitting outside it; I made her leave when the doctor made me change. I knew that was ridiculous. For one, she'd already seen me naked, and for two, neither of us definitely weren't the most modest people.

Sighing, I leaned back onto my elbows. Overnight, my entire life had changed. And I was 99% sure that it wasn't a good thing...

* * *

** Santana's POV**

I was angry. I sat with my fists clenched so that my knuckles shone white. My jaw was set, my teeth clenched.

Quinn had made me leave. While she was finding out if she was really carrying a baby, she made me leave. And her excuse was that she didn't want me to see her naked.

What the hell? I was pretty sure _I _had seen more of her body than she had! The problem was, she was determined to put me down. That had to be it. God, _why _did she have to be so difficult? Even at nineteen, she'd been the most difficult person I'd ever met! Six years later, it was ten times worse!

"Santana, are you alright?" I looked up to see Lena closing the door behind her, her head tilted as she watched me in concern. "You don't look very happy."

I sucked in air through my teeth in a gesture that might've been a substitute for a cold laugh. "Yeah. Well. I'm not."

She patted my cheek consolingly as she eased down onto the couch beside me. "Quinn is complex," she murmured. "You'll have to shift through many layers before you get to her. She's one of those people who needs many assurances before she can trust."

"She's known me since we were teenagers!"

"You were both different people and even then you only knew each other for a month. Now, you have only known each other for hardly three months. You are strangers," she said gently.

My head spun. Strangers. And she was having some guy's kid. And I was supposed to be her support to lean on through it all.

"As I said, Quinn is a complex person. So you," She lightly poked my shoulder. "will have to be the one to fix the strangers part."

I slowly unclenched my fists as I stared at the ceiling. Lena was right. I would fix it. Starting with making Quinn go to some damn AA meetings.


	19. Chapter 19

**Chapter 19**

* * *

**Santana's POV**

I was getting pretty fed up with feeling nervous.

Today I had cause, though. I was about to ask Quinn if I could move in with her.

It was idiotic, I knew. Mostly because I knew she was definitely going to shut me down. But I needed this. My restaurants had been officially shut down, and as I now had no work, I had no money, and as I had no money, I couldn't pay the rent. Quinn, however, had more money than she knew what to do with. She also had moved back into one of three of her homes. It was a mansion. Surely it would be rational for her to allow a friend to move into her mansion instead of a box under a bridge. It was certainly prudent, anyway.

I wasn't exactly her friend; more like her relentless support system. It had been a week since our visit to the doctor, and also a week since Lena, Rhiannon, Claire, Bryant, Tony, Shelby, Janelle, Puck and Sam sat Quinn down in Lena's house and forced her to talk to us for over an hour about her drinking problem. It hadn't been pleasant. Quinn had been defensive, offended, and downright furious, and despite the fact that we all deliberately kept our voices at a calm level, Quinn had wasted no time in shouting at us. We were persistent, though, and after nearly forty minutes, she finally quieted and listened to what we had to say. Then a look of sadness and regret was evident on Quinn's face, followed later by anguish when Lena, Claire and Rhiannon began to cry. It wasn't until Janelle's tears fell that Quinn finally began to weep. I even felt tears sting my eyes as I watched Quinn curl into a ball on the couch she sat in, her hands cupping her stomach as she sobbed. She finally agreed to the program, stating she didn't want to rely on alcohol to deal with her problems anymore and that she wanted to be a good mother to her baby.

I anxiously patted damp palms on the thighs of my skirt as I waited for Quinn to arrive at Lena's home. She had been in Treatment Initiation for only five days, and she wasn't enjoying it. She had hardly spoken to me since the intervention, and I couldn't really blame her. I had been the one that talked her into going to Lena's to speak to everyone in the first place, so I probably deserved her bad mood in response.

To be honest, I was probably insane for asking to move in anyway. I never would have suggested it, personally. But it was Lena who had come to me, begging for me to ask Lena to move in. I had refused at first, of course. But Lena got those stupid tears in her eyes, and she pleaded with me, bringing up the fact that I promised Quinn I would be there for her, and Quinn needed a babysitter. On top of that, Tony was kicking me out. When I tried to argue with him, he admitted that Lena asked him to do so. So basically, I was being forced to ask Quinn if I could move in with her. Which sucked. Bad.

"Hey, everyone." I swallowed hard when I heard Quinn's voice from behind the opening front door. She entered, closed the door behind her with the heel of her boot as she pulled off her coat. "It's getting so cold outside." She halted, frowning when she spotted only me, sitting stiffly on the couch. "Where is everyone?"

"They're out in the yard." I stood up. "Quinn, I need to ask you something."

I hated how her eyes narrowed, how they were so untrusting. All I seemed to do when it came to her was mess things up. A little despairingly, I said, "Um, do you have room in your mansion?"

Her eyes widened a little, as if to incredulously ask, _Do I have room...in my mansion? Hello?_

Feeling idiotic, I cursed myself. "Okay, ah...so, my restaurants were shut down because of financial problems. So, I'm out of a job. Tony said I need to leave, that it was getting too crowded with he, Shelby, Robby and then me there. There's no way I'm moving back home to Ohio. I would go back to New York, but..." Wordless, I gestured at her belly. You could see how it was rounding out now, just a little. Quinn understood what I meant; _I had a promise to fulfill._ Even if she didn't like it. "So...could I please move in with you?"

"No!" she said at once, indignant. I winced. "Are you kidding me? Move in with Sam, or Puck!"

"Puck's moving in with Rhiannon, and Sam's landlord won't allow it. You're the most logical choice, Quinn. It would only be for a few months, tops, while I try to sort out my career. Please."

Quinn frowned at me for a long moment, gnawing at her bottom lip as she considered it. Finally, she sighed and said, "God, you suck. Fine. But if you do one thing wrong..." she added threateningly, and let the words trail off in forewarning.

I nodded while relief melted inside me. "I won't." Hesitatingly, I took a step forward, embraced her. "Thank you so much, Q."

She was stiff, resilient, and definitely not about to hug me back. I withdrew when she squirmed. She huffed a breath as she straightened her shirt. "Yeah," she said in annoyance, and promptly strode past me and out the back door.

I watched her go, happiness and concern warring inside me. Moving in with Quinn was just asking for trouble, but it had been much easier than I thought it would be. Maybe she realized that I could help her stay clean. Or maybe she was just lonely. Either way, I was sure I was in for an interesting few months.

* * *

**Quinn's POV**

I sighed, allowing my muscles to relax and unclench. Stress, I admitted to myself, could be a killer.

It had started about two weeks ago, which was also two days to the day she'd went to the doctor to confirm that she was pregnant. When Santana and my "friends"—_all assholes, _I thought with gritted teeth—had cornered me, forced me to undergo a bullshit intervention and then, eventually, signed me up for rehab.

And now here I was,

Immediately, I refused. But _then_ she had to go and tell me that her restaurants were being shut down, she had nowhere to live and she couldn't afford to pay rent. So I had no choice but to say yes.

And now, here I was, lying in bed while the asshole brought me breakfast. Waffles and apple juice, too. My favorite. The asshole.

I just couldn't believe that she'd had the audacity to ask if she could move in with me. What was next? A proposal? For fuck's sake.

"Good morning." Santana grinned as she strode in, the tray of food in one of her hands. "Kind of dark in here, isn't it?"

Surly, I glanced around my bedroom. I was rather small in my huge king-sized bed, covered in two fluffy comforters. It was dim, as the sun was just rising and heavy, expensive curtains were shielding my windows. "I like it like that."

"Mmm. Well, here's your breakfast. Just how you like it." She set down the tray on my lap; I noticed how she was careful to avoid my stomach. She was always careful when it came to my stomach. I looked down at it, my disgruntled expression fading into one of concern. I knew it was vain, but I really didn't want any stretch marks.

"We need to leave at around five. Puck wants to get there at least eight."

My spirits darkened even more. Why did she have to remind me?

Rhiannon and Puck were officially engaged. Tonight we were heading for their engagement party. Personally, I found it all bizarre. I never in a million years would have thought Rhiannon would be married. I figured she'd be single forever, constantly dating eligible bachelors and the like. Apparently Puck was somewhere along those same lines. But I guess they'd calmed each other down, and were now ready to settle. It was just a little crazy since they'd only been officially dating for less than three months now.

Fifteen minutes later, we arrived at Tony's house.

"_Quinn_!"

"Hey, Santana!"

I sighed as I was buffeted by hugs. Lena's stomach was bulging, even though she'd only been pregnant for seven months now. She looked ready to pop. I glanced down at my own slightly round stomach. I really, really wasn't looking forward to getting fat.

"How're you feeling?" asked Shelby once I had sat down on the couch beside her. Santana had gone off to mingle with Puck and Rhiannon. Shelby's eyes were large and serious on me.

"Fine," I said shiftily. To be truthful, I was miserable. I had only been in this Initial Treatment plan for a week now. Santana had been living with me for only five days, so I'm sure she could tell. The problem was, I was used to dealing with my misery by drinking to numb the pain. I obviously couldn't do that now.

"And how are you with your pregnancy?" she asked next. She was very sincere, and I could guess it was because she'd already had a child and so knew how my morning sickness was going.

"Okay." I shrugged. "About the same as last weekend when I was nauseous every five seconds."

Shelby nodded sympathetically. "It'll be worth it, in the end. Once you're holding your child in your arms, it's worth it. Have you thought of any names yet?"

I shook my head. "Austin's mentioned a few. Logan, after his—"

"Cousin that died. I remember. Motorcycle wreck, wasn't it?"

"Yeah."

"That was so sad. It would be sweet if you had a boy and named him that. Any ideas if it's a girl?"

I shrugged. "My mother, Judy, but I don't really want to do that. I don't want to be sad about her every time I say her name. Dad died a few years ago too, but I wouldn't want to use that name either. Because...well, you know. He was a dick. Plus I hate the name Russell."

Shelby nodded in understanding.

"The only other names I like are people I'm related to. Stephanie. Blaire." I sighed, shook my head. "I'll just worry about it when the baby's closer."

"That's what Tony and I did. We didn't name Robby until we were ten minutes from leaving the hospital."

"What made you name him that?"

Shelby's lips twisted into a rueful smile. "I like Robert Downing Jr."

I laughed. "That makes sense, then. Good name." I sobered as Santana approached me with two bottles of water in her hands. "Thanks," I clipped out when she handed me one.

"No problem." She smiled serenely at me before twisting her cap off, taking a sip.

I hoped I didn't look as annoyed as I felt. Christ, I just wanted a drink. Aware that Shelby was watching me, I unscrewed the cap of my own water bottle, drank a little. Then I stood. "I'm going to go find Janelle. Haven't seen her in awhile." Gritting my teeth, she wandered off, leaving Santana to Shelby.

Janelle looked thrilled when she spotted me. She flung her bony arms around me, hugged me with a surprisingly strong grip for an older woman.

"Oh, Quinn, I have missed you."

I smiled a little, my irritation with Santana fading as I looked into Janelle's dark eyes. I loved this woman. She had been like a mother to me when my own passed away. "I've missed you too. How are you?"

Janelle waved her hand in the air, shook her head and shrugged as though it wasn't a big deal how she was. "Fine, fine of course. How are you?"

I glanced down at my stomach bump. "Okay. I guess."

Janelle's eyes narrowed. She gripped my shoulders and steered me to a recliner, sat me down. "How are you with your problem?"

"Taking care of it. It's not very pleasant, which is to be expected," I said grimly. "But I'll get through it."

Janelle nodded in approval, her lips in a thin line. Then she glanced around the room, at everyone mingling, before she turned back to look at me again. "You look as though you are not having fun."

I shrugged and looked down.

"Hmm. Well. You need to come with us."

I looked back up at her. "What? Where are you going?"

"Tonight, we girls are going to watch a movie. I believe it's called..." A crease appeared between her brow. "The Hangover the second."

"Hangover Two?" I said, amused. Janelle was going to watch that, when she'd considered the movie _Titanic_ to be too racy because of the nudity displayed? Oh, this would be very interesting.

"Yes, that. Rhiannon would like to see it, so we are going for her. You must come. But if you are doing something with Santana—"

"I'm not," I said quickly. "I think she was going out tonight with Puck and Sam to go see friends of theirs they went to high school with."

"Good, you'll come then." Janelle stood. "We are leaving at seven tonight. We will pick you up."

I nodded, smiled. "Alright. Thanks."

Janelle bent one last time, kissed the top of my head. "You needed that smile. Now come with me. We will go to the kitchen and fix lunch, and you can tell me how your life is going."

I was considerably more cheerful when I slipped into the backseat of Claire's Hummer. I sat in the back with Lena and Rhiannon, while Janelle sat in the passenger seat.

"Hi, guys."

They all chanted back greetings at me, and my smile widened. I had missed them.

"Excited about the movie, Janelle?" I asked.

Janelle nodded. "Oh yes. It's been called "the must-watch comedy of the year"."

I caught Claire's eyes in the mirror and fought hard to suppress a smile.

Soon we were strolling into a packed theatre. Janelle was already cheerful because a worker had teasingly asked her for her ID because 'she looked too young'. And then...the movie started.

When she watched the naked Chinese man and the monkey, her eyes were huge and her mouth wide open. She turned to look at Lena, who sat next at me. Lena just smiled placidly and indicated for her mother to go back to watching it. When it reached the part with the full out nudity, Janelle stood and walked out.

Rhiannon, Claire, Lena and I collapsed into a fit of laughter. Eventually, when they sobered, Rhiannon said, "Someone needs to go out there, we can't leave her alone. She probably thinks Claire's Hummer is unlocked when it's not."

"I will go find her." When I started to protest, Lena shook her head. "No, I've already seen this movie anyway. Bryant took me to see it the minute it came out."

So Lena went off to talk to Janelle, and Claire, Rhiannon and I chuckled to ourselves throughout the rest of the entire movie.

When it was finished and we headed outside, we found Lena and Janelle sitting on the sidewalk outside licking ice cream cones that they'd walked across the street for.

"How on earth are you sitting outside and eating that? It's the middle of winter, and it's freezing." Okay, a bit of an understatement. It was actually only about fifty degrees, at the moment.

Janelle licked the ice cream and said delicately, "I needed soul food after that horrible excuse for a movie."

I smiled as I sat down beside her. "It was pretty bad." Not my type of movie, though.

Claire and Rhiannon sat down beside me.

"I loved it," said Claire.

"Me too," Rhiannon chimed in.

Janelle shook her head, looking dignified even as she licked away at her vanilla ice-cream. "The nudity was completely unnecessary. The man...or the woman...with the breasts and the...penis..." She shook her head again, her nose wrinkled. "Completely inappropriate! I saw a child in the theatre! I mean, not in offense to the…person, but, children should not be exposed to nudity!"

She was referring to what looked like a ten year old girl that had came in with probably her older sister and her friends. "I agree with that," I said. "I hate it when kids come to movies like that."

"But they usually do," said Rhiannon apologetically, as though it was her fault that kids came to movies they were too young to watch.

To our surprise, suddenly Janelle's mouth twisted as though she were trying hard to contain a smile. Then she burst, "That Chinese man's penis was so small!"

We all roared with laughter.


	20. Chapter 20

** Chapter 20**

* * *

**Santana's POV**

Quinn was getting huge.

I wasn't saying it like it was a bad thing. Actually, it was kind of exciting now. Quinn had been recovering from her alcoholism for nearly 18 weeks. Though initially she'd been more aggressive and grouchy, she now seemed more tranquil, relaxed. Calmer than I had ever seen her in her adult life, anyway. Now that she could think more clearly, I think she was more enthusiastic about having a baby. She still seemed terrified, of course, but she was more determined now, her goals clearer. She wanted to be a good mother.

She had been speaking to Austin on the phone every now and then, but not much. When they spoke, they were stiff and rigid in their tone. Whoever Austin was, he seemed like a real douche bag. He hadn't flown down here, and I don't think he was planning to. I wasn't sure whether or not he wanted to be here for the birth. Quinn hadn't said, and I didn't want to ask her.

Either way, it was still exciting, even more me. Though Quinn and I had not been speaking very often even despite me living in the same house as her, until after she found out what she was having.

When she found out, it had been a pinnacle moment where Quinn and I might possibly have grown closer. We'd been living together for the past four months and no matter how many times I tried to speak to her, she ignored me. We _lived _together, and hardly exchanged words. The most I could get out of her was a noncommittal grunt in response to asking her to pass the box of cereal to me. We didn't eat dinner together. Most of the time she was out of the house, gone with Lena, Rhiannon or Claire. So the day that I went with her to get an ultrasound, it had definitely been a moment worth remembering.

The doctor had just informed us of the sex and left us in the room together in the resounding echo of shock.

"I'm having a boy," said Quinn faintly. "A son. I'm having a son." She was laying flat on her back now, her arms down at her side, unmoving. Her eyes were wide and glued to the ceiling. "I'm having a boy." She sounded as if she was in shock, and it would've amused me if I hadn't seen the tears spilling over Quinn's cheeks. "A baby boy. My baby."

That was the first time she'd ever said that. _'My baby'._ I returned to reality, just a little.

"What are you going to name him?"

She shook her head numbly.

"Adam? Chase? Jesse?" I began naming off the potential names I'd heard Quinn discuss with Lena in a very rare conversation a couple months ago. "Greyson, Mikey, Jaxon?"

She shook her head again and I guessed that it was too soon to be confirming a name. Right now, she should just bask in the glory of receiving the knowledge that she was getting a son.

I wondered what he would look like. Would he look like her ex? He was fairly attractive, I would admit. Better looking than any guy I'd went to high school with, anyway. Even though I'd only caught a glimpse of him through Quinn's Facebook. Still, Austin wasn't as attractive as Quinn. And Quinn was gorgeous of course, but what if the baby then looked too feminine?

I eyed Quinn. Worse, what if the baby _acted_ like Quinn? One thing for sure: there was no way Quinn should spoil the baby into a rotten brat. Not that I would dare tell her that.

"Are you...?...Do you...?" Quinn turned her head to look at me, a crease between her brows. She chewed at her bottom lip as she looked at me with large, worrying emerald eyes. "Do you think he'll be…happy, with it?"

"What do you mean?"

"Like…what if he didn't want a son?" she said uncertainly. "I know they say every man wants a son," she added quickly. "But what if he doesn't?"

I frowned and took her hand, ignoring it when her fingers jerked. "Quinn, you're having his _baby_. What does it matter whether it has a thing or not?"

Quinn relaxed a little, and I even saw her lips tilt upward in the ghost of a smile.

I didn't get why she was so concerned on what Austin would think. She didn't care about him, that much was certain. She would at least treat him like an asshole if she did, and she didn't even do that much. She was indifferent with him. The only reason he was in her life was obviously because she was carrying his child.

Either way, that moment had made us grow closer, somehow. She spoke to me more now, at least. A 'good morning' every now and then, sometimes a stiff 'how are you'? Better than nothing.

As for tomorrow, I was going to try my best to get even closer to her. The last time I'd been with Lena, she had told me to try harder. Even Claire and Rhiannon were encouraging me. Although they all admitted that Quinn had acted insane in the past and they would understand if I wanted nothing to do with her, they hoped I would keep trying, because somehow I was like a foil to Quinn. She didn't try to sneak around me like she did to Claire, Rhi and Shelby. She didn't try to duck and hide like she would with Lena, Tony and Janelle. She would be stuck flat when it came to me, and would grow angry because of it. As Lena said, Quinn would be the greatest challenge of my life. Of course, then I had laughed and called her dramatic, but when she only stared at me, I sobered. _Oh. She was serious._

Tomorrow would be perfect. I could take her out to dinner, and then perhaps we could take a long walk through the park, and catch up with each other on what happened in our lives over the years. I wanted to know how her father had died, whether they'd gotten closer (though I doubted they had, as she seemed unperturbed by his death). I wanted to know what had made her go into teaching, why she'd moved to Alaska, why she was so...different now, so different from the loud-mouthed, passionate nineteen year old girl I'd known. How could she have changed so dramatically, went from that girl to the emotionally-guarded, silent woman she was now?

I was so different myself now. I wasn't the bitch I'd been in high school. I was generally calm, serene, and my jokes were no longer snarky and sarcastic, but good-natured. I had turned from a bitchy teenager to a humble woman finally at peace with the world and myself. What had happened to Quinn, to make her so…scared?

_Tomorrow,_ I thought as I rolled over in my bed, buried my face in the pillow. _Tomorrow._

But sometimes, things don't work out the way you think.

"Hey, Santana?"

I stirred in my sleep.

"Santana."

I opened my eyes, squinting in the dim light of the lamp at my bedside table that had suddenly been turned on. "Huh?"

"Wake up."

I sat up a little when Quinn jabbed her fingers into my ribs. "Ow."

"Sorry." She was sitting on the edge of my bed, wearing an overlarge shirt that still didn't quite manage to hide the large curve of her stomach. "We have to go." She was speaking softly, at least, but in my ears it sounded booming. _She was leaving? What?_

"What? Why?" Panic had me frozen, staring at her with horror in my eyes.

"Come on, get up. Lena's in labor."

I stared blankly at her, not comprehending. Then it hit. _Oh, thank God._

"Awesome." Grinning, I leapt out of bed. Quinn's brows raised a little as she watched me, looking vaguely amused. "Let's go now."

"You, uh, might want to put some pants on first." She grinned at me, her eyes snapping down before snapping up to meet my gaze again. I looked down and balked. I was wearing a faded overlarge Monster shirt that had been given to me by Brittany when she went on tour as a backup dancer for Lady Gaga. Otherwise, I was only wearing black bikini underwear that I'd had forever and was generally my comfy pair I felt like wearing when I was having cramps. "Those are, uh...pretty stylish."

"Oh, Jesus." I seized the keys sitting on my nightstand. "You go start the car. I'll be out in a second!" I darted to the bathroom. _Fuck, how embarrassing._

I brushed my teeth with a vengeance, fairly sure I was making my gums bleed in my intent to be thorough but quick. No time to put on makeup, I thought, glancing at my reflection in the mirror. I didn't look too bad at least. I hurried back into the bedroom, pulled on suitable clothes, and then flew outside, where Quinn sat in the passenger seat of my Nissan Sentre.

I drove well over the speed limit to the hospital. I wasn't sure why, but I just felt so panicked. Maybe it was because Lena had become like a sister to me, and she was about to have a baby. Or maybe it was because Quinn was going to go through the same thing in a mere three months. Either way, I was sick to my stomach with both nerves and excitement as I shut off the car, sprinted around to Quinn's side, helped her out more quickly, seized her hand and began to drag her toward the hospital doors. To my vague surprise, rather than being pissed off that I was helping her and clutching her hand in mine, a laugh bubbled out of her lips. She must be high off her emotions too. She was pregnant and weird. There was no use trying to figure it out.

Quinn spoke to the woman at the front desk and she told us where Lena's family was. I sprinted there while Quinn hastened off to the delivery room, since Lena had requested her to be present during the birth.

Tony, Robby, Shelby, Claire, Rhiannon and Puck were in the waiting room. Bryant, Janelle and Quinn were all in the delivery room with Lena. When I collapsed into the chair between Tony and Sam, they both clapped my on the back in support.

"Excited that your girlfriend's going to be the one in the delivery room in a couple months?" Sam asked, giving me a somewhat taunting grin.

"Not my girlfriend," I said, but there wasn't much heat in it.

"Please," snickered Rhiannon.

I rolled my eyes. "Just because I'm living with her until she's done with treatment—"

"Just think. She'll be getting real big soon, and you're going to have to go through all that crazy hormone shit," goaded Puck.

Tony laughed, shaking his head at me. "Don't sweat it, San. It is not that stressful."

I scowled when I glanced up to see Tony shooting Sam a look that meant, _Oh hell yeah it's that stressful. _Great. Quinn was crazy enough without her "about to pop out a baby" end-of-third-trimester-hormones.

"This is kinda perfect, you know?" Claire said from three chairs down. She was sitting beside Rhiannon, and appeared to be painting her nails a neon pink. "Lena's having a boy, and then in three months Quinn'll have a boy. They'll be like, boyfriends."

Tony and Sam both simultaneously groaned.

"I meant like best friends!" Claire said heatedly.

"I don't care. Never say it like that again," Tony grumbled.

"Why?" demanded Claire, somewhat outraged.

"You are so homophobic," Rhiannon insisted to Tony.

"I'm not homophobic," said Tony, rolling his eyes. "Hello, Santana and Quinn are both practically family, and they're both gay. It's not the boyfriend thing I don't like. I wouldn't like it if they were both girls and lesbians, or a straight couple either. I just don't want one of those weird, "in a friend family and so close they should practically be related but they're dating" kind of things to deal with. Besides, your fiancé is the homophobic one."

Rhiannon rounded on Puck. "Oh is he?"

Puck seemed to shrink down into his seat. "Uh—"

"We're going to have to fix that then, aren't we honey?" she said sweetly.

I could swear I saw the color drain right out of Puck's face. I chuckled, and two chairs down on my left side I could see Sam chuckling too. Since the three of us went to high school together, Sam and I both knew exactly how Puck was. He was all for lesbians, but weird with gay guys. It was stupid and we gave him hell for it all the time, but to be honest, I think he just acted that way to try to look more manly or some stupid shit like that.

I listened to Claire and Tony's bickering for the rest of the day before finally, twelve hours later, a nurse came in and informed them that Lena had given birth, and then gave us shocking news.

"It's a_ girl?_ "

The nurse nodded, smiling a little. Apparently the fact that we were wrong was hilarious. What the crap.

"Yes. A beautiful girl, if I may say."

"I don't understand. How can you make a mistake like that?" Tony demanded.

"It happens, though it's rare. Sometimes, in an ultra sound, the umbilical cord can be mistaken for the indication of gender."

"Nice way to put it." Sam chuckled.

"Like I said, though it is rare, it happens." The nurse smiled at us. "You shouldn't be upset, though. I'm not just saying this—that's one of the most beautiful baby girls I've ever seen."

As the nurse walked away, Tony turned to face the rest of the group and muttered, "We aren't upset..."

"Yeah! I'm still really happy for Lena," said Rhiannon. "But I know that she really wanted a son."

For some reason, I felt a heat creep up my neck and flush my face. Well, great. Now I felt guilty. I knew that was ridiculous, but I could hardly help it.

"When can we go in and see them?" asked Shelby, hitching up the sleeping Robby on her hip. It was nearly four in the afternoon, but the poor kid had been up since three in the morning, napping on and off.

"I think we can now..." said Rhiannon, looking around to spot a nurse. She made eye contact with the nurse that had just walked away, and the nurse seemed to understand; she smiled, nodded and pointed toward a hallway.

Our group moved down it, hurrying to make our way toward Lena's room. We got lost, of course, and had to have assistance from another nurse, who told us where Lena was now. Finally, we entered, and I felt my heart stutter in the beauty of the moment.

Janelle was at Lena's right side, her trembling hands up over her mouth as she looked down at the baby with adoring eyes. Bryant was beside Janelle, his face pale, but brightened by the huge, relieved, delighted grin he had. Quinn was on Lena's left side, bent over, exchanging a laugh with Lena over some murmured pleasantry. And then there was Lena in the middle of them all, her head bent as she looked down at the little bundled blue blanket in her arms.

The general uproar of everyone flooding into the room was silenced in my ears as I weaved my way through the many people to the bed Lena lay on. I wondered what her expression was. Was she a little disappointed that she didn't have a son? Was she...

And then I neared her, and she looked up at me, tears rolling down her cheeks, her face utterly flushed.

I opened my mouth, though I didn't know what I was supposed to say. "Lena, I'm so sor-"

"Look at her, San," she said, her voice breaking, hitching with emotion. "Look at her. She is so beautiful. My daughter." She looked down at the baby, and more tears poured as she cried, and she laughed, and smiled down at her baby.

And I grinned and said, "I'm so happy for you."


	21. Chapter 21

**Chapter 21**

* * *

**Santana's POV**

Lena and Bryant didn't seem at all upset over the fact that the doctors had been wrong about the baby's gender. The only thing on their mind was their sweet little girl, who was, in fact, the most beautiful baby I had ever seen, and that included my old friends Rachel and Finn's daughter, who happened to be very, very pretty. Rachel was actually pregnant again with their third child, and was due sometime around when Quinn was. I was excited to go visit them, but hadn't had the chance yet.

Lena and Bryant's daughter was dark skinned, like Lena, with a head full of black hair and eyes that were so dark they seemed almost black. You could see pink patches of color in her brown cheeks, and her little lips were already plump and precious. Add in that cute little button nose and the way she balefully blinked those big, beautiful eyes up at you, and you had yourself an angel.

It was nearly ten o'clock at night by the time Quinn and I finally gave the baby (whom Lena and Bryant had named Piper, after Bryant's deceased older sister) a last kiss and smiled a last congratulations. As we made our way across the dimly lit parking lot, Quinn surprised me by nudging her elbow gently into my ribs.

"You know," she said, sighing. "You're not so bad."

I lifted my eyebrows. "Really?" I said, a little wary. Quinn never complimented me.

"Yeah, really. The way you were with the baby..." She shrugged. "It was very sweet, and nice. You didn't have to do that."

"Yeah I did," I said in surprise. "I love babies. I mean, I used to hate them when I was a kid, but a lot of my friends have their own kids now, so I've gotten used to them. And I love Lena and Bryant, and everyone there. I don't really know Rhiannon and Claire that well, but everyone else has become really special to me over the past two years, when I first met Tony." When Quinn only looked at me, her mouth twisted to the side as though she was trying hard not to smile, my brow creased. "And I sound like a kid."

"Well, you have been living with one for awhile now." Smiling, she patted her belly, then lifted her shoulders and let them fall, darting ahead to slip into the passenger seat of my car.

On the drive home, I contemplated over the theory that living with a baby, regardless of the fact that it was still in the womb, was making me act more childish. Hopefully not.

As Quinn rummaged around in her purse looking for the keys to the house, I reassured myself of the fact that I was indeed a fully grown woman, by observing the ridiculously appealing anatomy of the woman standing beside me.

She was so ridiculously sexy. That glowing pale skin, the subtle curves. Her choppy golden tresses, pouty pink lips. Quinn's legs had been something I'd always admired. Though they weren't terribly long (she was only around 5'6), they were curvy, tan and gleaming, and so solid. I couldn't help but to remember how strong they were wrapped around my waist, or wrapped around my head...It also helped that they led up to a very nice ass, one that had grown slightly larger during her pregnancy. _Fuck,_ I needed to get my mind away from this road. I can't think of her like that, _at all. _

"You want anything to eat or drink?" she asked as she opened the door, switched on the light. "I'm going to make myself some waffles."

I smiled. She made waffles often. It was a wonder she remained in such great shape. "I might get some too, actually. They sound good."

"Okay. I thought you didn't like waffles, though?" asked Quinn, turning to frown over her shoulder at me as I followed her into the house.

"I can eat them plain, without any syrup."

"Oh." We entered the kitchen, and each headed for the fridge. I waited while Quinn opened the fridge; she pulled four waffles out of the freezer. "I'll put yours in for you."

"Thanks."

She dropped the four waffles into the toaster, and then leaned against the counter, looking at me. It was weird, when she looked at me without any irritation or caution in her eyes. I definitely appreciated the change.

"So, being pregnant isn't the best for a girl's diet."

I laughed. "I can see why. You have another mouth to feed, so you're twice as hungry."

She made a face, squinting as she considered it. Shaking her head, she said, "No, it's not even that. I'm not really hungry, don't have an appetite a lot of the time. It's mainly that when I do have an appetite, it's for junk food. So I'm never eating, and then when I do eat, it's like, chocolate, or chips and dip, or something loaded with salt and butter..." The waffles popped up, and she spoke as she turned to retrieve plates from the cabinets. "I have cravings for stuff all the time, too. Like lately, I've been craving red wine." Uh oh. I remained still, scrutinizing Quinn's face. She appeared serene, however, not as though she was about to go into a giant tantrum over being alcohol-free for the past four months. She put two waffles on each plate, brought butter out of the fridge and began to lather it on with what looked like an expensive silver butter knife. "Which sucks because I can't have it."

Red wine did sound good, I silently agreed, though I knew there was no way in hell I could drink it around her. "I'm sorry," I said honestly.

She glanced up from the waffles she was cutting, and one corner of her lips quirked up in a crooked smile. "Jesus, you do sound like a kid. You don't have to apologize to me. Here." She handed me my plate of cut waffles. She'd even cut them for me? That was nice of her, I thought in pleasant surprise.

"Thanks."

"Mm-hm." She slid into the seat across from mine at the kitchen bar, took a bite of her syrup-drenched waffle and munched away happily as I took a bite of my own. "So, didn't you think that Piper is the cutest little thing you've ever seen?"

"At the risk of sounding like a kid again, yes, I thought she was the bee's knees."

She smiled at that. "She's a day old and already I can tell she has Lena's eyes."

"Lena has great eyes," I said, and then stiffened. Quinn was so sensitive sometimes. Did that sound like I had a thing for Lena? Because I didn't. She was like a sister to me.

"She really does," Quinn assented, and I relaxed. It didn't seem to have affected her at all. "When we were in elementary school, we had a club called the Pretty Eye club." Quinn grinned. "Lena and I were self-declared presidents."

I chuckled as I finished up my first waffle. "I can see that."

"We were mean. We wouldn't let anyone in who had boring or ugly eyes. Rhi was mad at us for days because we refused to let her in because she had blue eyes, and everyone had blue eyes." Quinn chuckled, shaking her head at the memory. "Rhi actually probably has the best eye color out of all of us."

"No she doesn't," I said without thinking, and almost fearfully regretted it. Yes, Rhiannon did have exceptionally pretty eyes - they were a vivid azure that always sparkled. But Quinn had bright, piercing hazel eyes that could go so sharp and clever, so angry and hot, so smokey and sultry. Quinn had the best eyes I'd ever seen, by far.

Quinn's smile faded, just a little, as she looked at me. "Really?" she said, just watching me steadily. "Who does?"

"You." Feeling embarrassed _(I shouldn't be giving her compliments that could make her think I was hitting on her! I didn't even like her!),_ I rose to my feet, took our empty plates to the sink. The awkward silence was filled with the tense sound of me quickly washing the plates. When I finally turned back around, Quinn was still in her chair. Her elbow was on the table, her face cupped in her palm as she watched me thoughtfully. I cleared my throat uncomfortably. "Well. I'm going to hit the sack. Thanks for the midnight snack. Hey that rhymed. Ha ha." Despising myself for my stupidity, I hurried off toward the stairs.


	22. Chapter 22

**A/N: Thank you guys for your support! Your reviews, follows and favs really make my day, you have no idea!**

**Enjoy :)**

**Chapter 22**

* * *

**Quinn's POV**

God, I would _kill_ for a glass of wine. I wanted to feel that warmth running down my throat to settle so lovely in my belly.

I hadn't had a drink in nearly five months. I was proud of myself for that. Although I hadn't understood at the time, I now realized just how much I had relied on alcohol. And I did want to be better: especially for the little man growing inside me.

I sighed as I flipped through the channels on television. Nothing was on. As it was a Thursday night, I was hardly surprised. The only things on were cheap shows and porn. I wasn't really in the mood for either. Cheap shows were, well, cheap, and porn was boring. I had no idea why so many people enjoyed watching it.

I groaned as I shut it off and rolled over on the couch. My stomach was starting to become an obstacle in my way all the time. Though I wasn't yet ginormous, my belly was still beginning to become rather large. It pressed against the back of the couch as I lay there, and I gave a huff of breath.

I heard the distant sound of the front door opening; Santana was home. Her footsteps neared until finally she came into the kitchen. Even when she spotted me, I didn't move.

"Hey. I thought you were going to Lena's to see the baby today?"

"Nope. Bryant called and said Lena wasn't feeling well so she was sleeping, and since he works a lot, I figured he'd like quality time with his kid. So I'm just stuck here bored."

"Hm. Well, if it's any consolation, I've been bored too. The interviews didn't go very well. And I've been craving red wine all day, no thanks to you mentioning it last week." She blew out a breath, her dark fringe blowing up a little as she sat down at the edge of the couch, near my feet.

"Then go get some," I said, my voice muffled in the couch cushion. "And let me smell it."

"I'm not going to drink it when you can't have it."

My mouth watered in anticipation of just taking a whiff and breathing in that heavenly scent of red wine. I sat up swiftly, my hair swinging forward in a tangled mane of wild golden curls. "I'm serious, Santana. Go get some and let me have just one smell of it."

She started to shake her head, giving me a _what the fuck_ look. "Fuck no, Quinn, you'll be tempted to drink it—"

"I'm not going to drink it!" I said impatiently. I put a hand on my belly. "Like I'm going to risk hurting this little guy, and make all my hard work go to waste. I just want a smell. It's the closest I'll get to drinking for the rest of forever. Please, Santana," I added, looking beseechingly into her eyes. "Please go get some. Please, with cherries on top."

"Quinn, that pisses me off that you would even ask me that!"

I gave a huff of breath, sulking. "I know, I know."

A terse silence spread between us, until I spoke up. "What about sparkling grape juice? Red grape. I can have that."

Santana rolled her eyes as she stood up and gave a short, half annoyed, half amused sigh. "Fine, fine. If it'll shut you up. I'll be right back."

"Want me to come?" I said, getting off the couch and to my feet.

"It'll be quicker if I just go."

I sat back down. "Okay, you go then."

"Alright."

She strode away and I smiled when the door closed. Oh, the taste of that juice would be so nice.

I decided to take a shower while she was gone, since my hair was an absolute mess. As I was getting out of the shower, I heard Santana call my name.

"Hang on," I called back to her. "I'll be right down."

I quickly seized an old T-shirt from my closet and pulled it on. Normally it would go down to my mid-thighs, but my stomach caused it to barely reach my waist. So I quickly pulled on comfortable short-shorts and proceeded to hasten downstairs.

I found Santana in the kitchen, standing over the bar while she took two glass cups down from the kitchen cabinet. "Do you mind if I share it with you?"

"No," I said, surprised at the question. Why wouldn't I? Then I remembered how I was generally acting like a bitch to her, and we had only been on friendlier terms for the past week, ever since Piper had been brought into the world. I don't know why, but seeing Santana with her, so sweet and her face full of glowing adoration, had made me realize something. Why was I always so mean to her, when she definitely did not deserve it? I mean yeah, she did trick me into going to that intervention they'd all arranged for me. But I had needed that. And she had even moved in here with me to help watch me while I went through treatment. Well, I'm still going through treatment. But at least now I'm aware and have admitted that I have a problem, and am willingly taking the steps to deal with it.

The history between us was fucked up. Anyone with half a brain knew that much. Meeting when we were nineteen because I drove my car into her friend's house, being forced to work there for the summer to pay off my debt, going through a sexuality crisis because I was attracted to women and then being forced to work for three months with the hottest and most infuriating girl I'd ever met, finally letting down my guard and being with her the way I wanted to regardless of what people thought (although I did my best to make sure my homophobic father would never find out), and then getting my heart broken when she cheated on me with my own crazy sister. Admittedly, she did only do it because she thought I'd cheated on her with an ex-boyfriend, but still, she hadn't believed me when I told her it wasn't what it looked like, and she'd deliberately set out to hurt me. And then, six years later, not long after I'd broken things off with my ex-fiancé, I met her again, because out of all people for Tony to have become friends with, it was Santana, Puck and Sam. Then I'd been stuck with her on a three-day camping trip. The sexual attraction was still there, and now my alcoholism was there too. I had been so angry that Santana and I had sex when I'd clearly been under the influence, but to be fair, I was the one who went to her, and she'd been intoxicated too. And I was the one who fucked Austin the minute I'd arrived back in Alaska. And the amount of alcohol I used to consume…I was just so incredibly fortunate that my baby hadn't been affected. Thank God for modern technology, because the amount of relief it gave me when the tests came up good for my baby's health was earth-shaking.

But still, even despite all the fucked up history, Santana was a good person. She was still the old Santana I knew, with a sharp tongue and a perverted sense of humor. But she was a completely new person, too. Six years is a long time, and nineteen and twenty-five is a big difference. A freshman in college and then an adult in the working world is a big difference. She was a lot more mature; the fact that she'd taken my crazy shit for the past four months was proof enough of that.

She smiled warmly at my response. "Here you go," she said, handing me my glass.

"Thank you," I breathed as I plucked the glass out of her grip and brought it to her nose. I very nearly cried in relief when the scent of it drifted into me. God, it smelled incredible. And since it was just a fruit juice drink, there was obviously no alcohol smell in it. I hated how much I constantly craved alcohol. Still, it was so much easier to deal with now. I took a gulp, relishing the way the sweet liquid trickled down my throat. "Oh, thank you."

"Welcome," she smiled, lifting her own glass to her lips. I observed, with a hint of jealousy, as Santana drank her own. _She_ could drink wine. "Pretty good," she said, nodding in approval.

"Yep," I agreed. "Not as good as wine, but, it'll have to do."

She watched me over the rim of her glass for a moment before lowering it, pursing her lips thoughtfully. "Can I ask you something personal?"

"Sure," I said, forcing my tone to be level and reasonable. It was rude to immediately be wary. I needed to be nicer to her.

"When did it start?" she asked, sinking down onto one of the bar stools and watching me expectantly.

She was obviously referring to my drinking problem. I took a deep breath, easing down onto the chair across from her. The counter provided a space between us that somehow made it less threatening to speak aloud about all this.

"I don't know. I started going to parties and drinking when I was in eighth grade. I was getting trashed at least once a week all throughout high school, probably would have been more often if Lena didn't lecture me until she was blue in the face. I got kicked off the cheer squad."

Santana nodded. "I remember you telling me that."

"Oh. Yeah." I tried to think of when I told her, but it was so long ago, I couldn't remember. "Well, I went to Yale and I was drinking a lot there. My sorority liked to throw a lot of mixers. I guess I just used it as a crutch. I would always get trashed off my ass on the anniversary of my mom's death. And on her birthday. It just started to get worse. I used to it avoid dealing with hurting, so…yeah. When my father died, I started drinking regularly, a couple glasses of wine a day at least, getting drunk at least once a week like I said. It was off and on when I was in Alaska because I was teaching kids, plus Austin was another teacher there and I was engaged to him so obviously I didn't want to be hanging all over him drunk all the time, but soon enough I guess it just didn't matter."

"It didn't matter?" she said in disbelief. "What, he didn't care?"

I shrugged, taking another drink of the juice. "I guess not. The only time he ever said anything about it was when we had to go somewhere where there were important people. Other than that, why would he care? I was his perfect little girlfriend and I sucked his dick."

Santana's full upper lip curled back in disgust. My cheeks warm with shame, I averted my gaze, staring at the red liquid in my cup as I tipped it back.

"Quinn. Quinn," she said firmly, and my eyes slid back to meet hers. The warm brown looking so intently at me gave me something I haven't felt in months: a stirring. Something inside me trembled, and fear inkled into me with it. I pushed both the trembling and the fear away, and focused instead on Santana's next words. "That is so wrong. You know that, right? That's _wrong_."

I dipped my head in consent. "Yeah, I know. Why do you think I broke up with him?"

"Because he cheated on you."

"Well, yeah, that too, but even if he hadn't. He was a dick. I don't know how I was with him for that long in the first place."

"You were lonely," she suggested, and I shrugged noncommittally, taking another sip.

"Maybe."

Santana tilted her head, her dark hair spilling over her shoulder as she watched me steadily and asked, "What happened with you and your dad?"

"Nothing. Same as how it was when I was working at the ranch with you. We communicated via email, he gave me money and I voted for him during elections. I didn't ruin his family name. He didn't bother me." The sorrow in my voice was palpable despite my nonchalance and my blank expression, and I could tell that Santana caught it by the way her brow creased sympathetically. _That_ set my back up, if anything. "What the fuck does that matter?" I said, uncomfortable; I sat up straighter, my head held high as I sipped my juice coolly. "We probably had a handful of conversations ever since my mom died. Even before that, it wasn't that great. You know I walked in on him fucking that tattooed freak when I was seven."

"His secretary. I remember you telling me that," said Santana softly.

That time I did remember. It had been a particularly hot summer day, and we'd laid out in the grass together behind the barn, kissing and cloud gazing and speaking about our lives. It was a fond memory, even despite the fact that it was only a couple days later that my sister had surprised me by abruptly arriving in town.

"That still doesn't change the fact that that's your dad. Mine was an asshole too, but I still miss him sometimes. Or maybe it's not that I miss him, but I miss the idea of him. The idea of having an actual dad." Santana's swallow was audible as she shrugged, clearly trying to appear nonchalant, too. "I don't know. Life sucks."

"Yep, but even if it sucks, that doesn't mean you can drink it away." I raised my glass in response to the little smirk Santana gave. That gave me shivers, too. I ignored it again. "Thank you, by the way. For babysitting my idiot ass."

Her smirk broadened. "Thank you, too. For letting me stay here. I really did need a place to stay."

"How's the job searching going? What did Williams say? Lena filled me in," I added when she lifted her brows quizzically.

"I'm not sure yet. He said he'd call me within the next couple weeks to let me know." Williams were some cooperate business owners that Santana was speaking to about starting up a new chain of restaurants. "I don't even know if I want them to say yes. They seemed a little stiff."

My lips curved up in response, and she rolled her eyes. "Wanky," I said snidely, and she laughed.

"Get your own phrases," she joked.

"I just take yours and make them cool," I teased.

She snorted as she got to her feet. "I'm so cool, I don't think it's even possible for me to get any cooler. But I guess I could always be surprised." She leaned over me to set her empty glass in the sink, and I caught a whiff of her perfume. _Ugh, it smelled so good._ More tingles I had to ignore. "Well, I'm going to bed, it's been a long day filled with way too many interviews and chauvinistic men." She dropped a hand on my shoulder and squeezed it briefly before she headed across the kitchen. "Night."

The ache I felt at her receding presence was sudden and sharp, and sent a wave of sadness rippling through me. I called out sadly, "Goodnight, San."

She paused in the archway, and I balked as I realized why. I hadn't called her San in a very long time. I sat frozen in embarrassment as she turned and sent me a warm smile over her shoulder. The warmth seemed to flood through me, and I smiled weakly in response.

"Goodnight, Q. See you tomorrow."

"See ya," I said, and watched her walk out.

I couldn't help but to wonder if an ache that's been in place for the last six years was capable of actually going away one day.


	23. Chapter 23

**Chapter 23**

* * *

**Quinn's POV**

I absently hummed to myself as I lathered shampoo into my wet hair, feeling lovely and warm under the warm spray coming from the shower head. I was going to go visit Lena and Piper today, and I was looking forward to it. Piper was two weeks old today, and because Lena had been sick, I'd only been able to see Piper once, at the hospital right after she was born. Saying I was excited to see her today was an understatement.

I was drying off with my towel when my phone rang, and Lena explained to me with a croaky voice that she was feeling sick again and we would have to raincheck. I was upset, but I understood, so, depressed, I pulled on an overlarge shirt and some shorts to sleep in and headed downstairs, hoping I could at least find entertainment in chatting with Santana.

We had grown marginally closer over the past week, ever since our random talk in the kitchen. Now we were talking for hours every night, and I think we could almost define ourselves as friends. It felt silly now, to think of how rude I had been to her. She was a good person. I apologized for it, and she accepted, also apologizing on her behalf for sticking around when I didn't want her, but I assured her I was grateful for it, considering I really had needed a babysitter for the past five months to make sure I didn't do anything stupid.

The only problem was, the more Santana and I talked, the more I realized how attracted I am to her. She was beautiful, of course, but it wasn't just that. It was the way she moved, the expressions, the gestures, the tone of her voice. She practically emanated sexy. And on the nights when she cooked dinner and sang to herself, it was all I could do not to jump her bones. Her voice always got me worked up.

It didn't help that these stupid pregnancy hormones were making me horny as fuck.

Yawning, I went downstairs to find Santana in the living room. She was sitting on the couch, watching something on the television while she took a swig out of the bottle of grape juice she clutched in her hand. I flew over to her.

"You bought more?"

"Yep. Want some?"

"Yessss!" I snatched it out of her hands, lifted the bottle. Hardly a drop came out and landed on my tongue, where it seemed to evaporate. "Aw. You drank it all."

She snickered, and the way her dimple flashed was so cute that I couldn't help not to be annoyed with her. I tossed the bottle back at her and she caught it, laughing.

"I didn't buy a new one. This was the one from last week. There was a mouthful left."

"Bitch," I seethed, and she laughed harder.

To distract myself, I sat back in the couch and focused my attention on what was on television. A woman was shimmying off her panties while a man kissed her—

"Oh my God," she said incredulously, laughing a little. "You're watching porn?"

"No. I hate porn."

"Then why are you watching it?"

Santana moved a shoulder in a shrug. "There's nothing else on."

Laughter bubbled out of my lips as I shook my head in disbelief and watched the screen. After a moment, I shook my head again. "This is just sad. That guy isn't even attractive. Maybe if you cut off his head and put a better one on."

"The girl isn't either. Usually I like it better when girls don't drown their faces in makeup, but that bitch could use some."

My nose wrinkled in vague revulsion, I observed the hideous faces of the couple onscreen until the camera angle shifted and only their bodies could be seen. "Porn is just so boring."

"Yep." Santana took another drink. "That's because it's the same thing every time. They never switch it up enough. Also, I don't think straight people know how to have sex. They think sex is just sticking a dick in a vagina and moving until Cinco de Mayo. That's just intercourse. Sex is more than that. But lesbian porn sucks because it's all bullshit. Long nails and dramatic heavy breathing. It pisses me off."

I was astounded into silence. "Yeah," I finally just agreed, and then we were quiet as we watched.

I was grateful the television was muted, at least. I didn't want to listen to the groaning of unattractive strangers as they wrestled around. As Santana and I continued to watch, I started to feel a little uncomfortable. The porn had taken on a more...unique quality that involved a whip, and it was more than a little awkward to be watching it with Santana.

But I was not-so-subtly becoming distinctly aware of her presence (for God's sake, technically I hadn't had sex in ages, considering the last two times I hadn't even been sober) and felt so uncomfortably hot that I had to stand and turn on the fan overhead. But I wasn't about to leave; I wasn't about to get up and let her think I was a sissy or a prude for not being able to sit through it. And anyway, it wasn't the porn that was turning me on. That did nothing for me. It was the fact that two people were having sex, and right now there were two people in this room not having sex…

I watched Santana watching the television and felt my stomach ache. God, I just couldn't do anything around here! Couldn't drink, couldn't go visit baby Piper, couldn't have any more sparkling grape juice, couldn't watch good television, couldn't have sex—

"This sucks," said Santana.

I cast a sour glance at the porn, which had transitioned into handcuffs. "Yeah," I agreed, and then went back to sulking.

I couldn't even have sex with the girl who was currently living with me. _Damn it. _Something that should be convenient had turned into something most definitely not. It had been easier before, when I hated her, because then I had been too busy despising her to allow myself to think of sleeping with her. But now I didn't hate her, I'd even become quite fond of her, and I was also attracted to her, but I couldn't have sex with her because it would just lead to trouble.

But my doctor _had_ told me that the best form of exercise a pregnant woman could get was sex...

But I couldn't have it with Santana because it was trouble, and couldn't have it with anyone else because that would be even more trouble because I didn't want anyone else.

I bit my lower lip, scowling at the moving figures on the television screen. _Damn it, damn it, damn it. _My pregnancy was also making my hormones out of whack. I wasn't feeling, or thinking, right.

I could fool around with her.

Yes, I could do that. Could just use my mouth on hers...that was harmless, right? Kissing was harmless, surely.

No, I shouldn't even do that! It would just confuse her, send her mixed signals.

But I _was_ mixed signals. I didn't know what I was feeling.

That didn't mean I should drag her into the confusion with me.

_So. Long._ It had been so long since I'd had a good kiss. Even just imagining it...I watched Santana out of the corner of my eyes. She was such an amazing kisser. Those full lips, so particularly adept at sliding over mine, at moving into an oval and sucking my lip into her mouth, at how soft they felt pressed into my skin...

Ooh, I wanted to kiss her! What was so wrong about that? God knows Santana always enjoyed a little messing around. So...so there was really no harm in it...right?

But there was! Distressed, I glanced at Santana. She seemed pretty intent on that porn that she claimed to hate. I shouldn't kiss her...anything that happened after would just be bad news...

Resigned, I sighed and sent a pouting frown at the television, folding my arms over my belly. Hell. Life sucked.

I spied the bottle of grape juice that was currently resting on her lap. I seized it, ignoring her protests, and brought it beneath my nose. Santana, who had mistakenly thought I was going to do something with it, I have no idea, maybe throw it, gripped my wrist and yanked me half into her lap.

"I'm just smelling it!" I said hastily, before she could take it out of my hands.

Oh, the smell of it. "Oh, you have no idea how good this smells. Seriously, it's orgasmic." I closed my eyes as I breathed it in.

Carefully, I slid the tip of my tongue around the rim of the bottle. It mostly tasted like the glass. Disappointed, I looked up to glumly return the bottle to Santana—and found her face only an inch or so away from mine.

Before I could even react, she moved her head forward and placed her mouth over mine.

_Whoa, _I thought, that had been perfect. _She_ had kissed _me_, so now any trouble that happened was all her fault. I could—

Then I stopped thinking, because at that moment her lips forced mine open, and her tongue slipped in, and I suddenly tasted the most exquisite taste of Santana and sparkling red grape juice.

My moan was lost in her mouth.


	24. Chapter 24

**A/N: Thank you guys! You're seriously awesome :) While also obsessively checking to see if the fanfics I read have been updated, I also obsessively check your reviews. They seriously make my day, you guys are so awesome!**

**As always, enjoy, and let me know your thoughts/opinions! :)**

**Chapter 24**

* * *

**Santana's POV**

_Oh, shit, _I thought as I bent down, peered into Quinn's eyes, watched them widen as I moved to kiss her. She was going to kill me. Send me right to my death. Pull back, clench her hand into a fist and knock me right out for having the audacity to kiss her like that—

That was why, after the initial freezing of her body, when she suddenly moaned and plunged her hands into my hair, I was so surprised that my eyes snapped open. She wasn't going to punch me, or slap me? Wasn't going to bitch me out until my ears were bleeding?

Her eyes drifted open, and my heart leapt when I saw that they had gone into smoky and sultry mode. She held my gaze for a moment as we both sat there, breathless, our lips parted and held a breadth apart. What was it about her that turned me on so much? That made me feel electrified from the inside out, practically bristling with the urge to put my lips and my hands on any part of her I could?

I'd already dug myself a hole and put one foot in it. Might as well put in the other.

I cupped the back of her neck, her waves of darkly golden hair dampening the skin of my fingers, and brought her to me. Mouths clashed as she gripped my hair more tightly, clinging to me. She kissed me so deeply that I could feel the hum in the back of her throat that deepened, turned into a husky moan as she outlined my lips with her tongue. What was she doing? She seemed to be trying to lick as much of me as she could. Though I didn't really mind, I decided when she closed her lips around my tongue.

"Oh my God," she murmured, licking inside of my mouth. "You...taste...like...sparkling…grape…juice." She drew back, her eyes half-closed as though she were savoring the flavor. I watched, transfixed as the tip of her own tongue lingered on her upper lip. "God."

I didn't want it to stop just yet. I cupped her face in my palms, brought her to me yet again. My teeth sank into her bottom lip she always seemed so fond of putting her own teeth in. When I bit down gently, tugged slightly, her breath caught and turned into a gasp.

Being gentle with her (you couldn't help but to remember and notice her stomach), I nudged her back until she was more beneath me. It was hard, as I couldn't exactly lay flat on her belly. I had to extend my neck just to keep my lips locked with hers.

Every muscle in my body turned into a tight knot when she took my own bottom lip and began to suckle. What was I supposed to do? At this rate, we would end up sleeping together, and I knew that she would make me regret it. Definitely not during, but the next morning, when we woke and she treated me coldly, indifferently, I would regret it—

But right now she was warm, willing, and apparently not wearing a bra beneath the faded Eskimo Joe's shirt she wore. And then those shorts were so short they could be considered underwear. I ran my hand up her leg slowly, felt smooth, soft skin that rose in temperature the higher my hand went, until I was cupping damp lace in my palm.

Quinn's cellphone rang. The Florence and the Machine ringtone was faint in my ears. Then my own cell rang, and the Amy Winehouse ringtone was even more distant as Quinn ran her hands down my chest, caressing my breasts before continuing downward, toward my skirt—

The house phone rang. Still, we ignored it, only vaguely hearing the sound of the voicemail take off as Quinn's hands drifted up my skirt, her fingertips teasing the top of my lace thong.

"Hello, Quinn, Santana?" At the sound of Bryant's voice, Quinn turned her head. My lips went from her mouth to her jaw, and I kissed my way to her ear until Bryant spoke again, and then I drew back in alarm when I heard how distressed he sounded. "If you guys are up, please call me back! I don't know, something's up with Lena, we're here at Saint Francis Emergency Room but the doctors aren't telling me shit, and I don't know what the hell happened, she was fine yesterday and today she just had a headache, but then she started coughing up blood and she passed out, and I just took her, I didn't know what else to do—"

All at once, Quinn shoved her hands into my chest, forcing me off her. Quinn shot up the stairs and out of sight. I sat in dim shock, listening to Bryant.

"—We have Piper with us because Janelle wouldn't stay home, and Tony isn't answering his phone, and I don't know what the fuck to do! If you guys are up, or if you wake up and hear this, please just—just call me back, or come up here as soon as you can. Bye."

The phone clicked. I still hadn't yet to move as Quinn darted back down the stairs. She didn't say a word to me, nor did she look at me. She just marched toward the front door, out of breath with wide eyes.

I didn't realize I had the ability to move until I heard the snap of the closed door.


	25. Chapter 25

**Chapter 25**

* * *

**Quinn's POV**

Panic. Nausea. Absolute terror.

Those were only words used to describe what I felt, and they did no justice.

My knuckles were white as I clutched the steering wheel. My eyes were wide and focused on the road ahead as I sped through town. I forced myself to drop to the speed limit when I neared where, I knew, always had policemen hidden under the bridge. Sure enough, there was a police car, sitting right there just waiting to trap the next speeder.

Impatience flared furiously within me, as I seemed to just roll along. I needed to be at the hospital _now_.

What was wrong with Lena? What could possibly have happened? I remembered how Lena's grandmother had died, how she'd been diagnosed with leukemia right after Janelle had been born, and I felt my horror gain a new, sharpened point. _Oh, God, please let her be okay. _Lena was more than my best friend; she was the twin sister I never had. Ten times more of a sister Frannie had ever, or would ever, be. If Lena wasn't in my life anymore..._God, don't even think about it, _I told myself, shaking my head. Fuck, everything in me craved nothing more than a good, cold bottle of vodka. My mouth watered at the mere thought of it, of numbing this pain and having that amazing taste burst in my mouth, but it sent another dull pang through my heart, and the baby growing inside me was suddenly like a beacon of warmth_. Stay strong for him. Stay strong for Lena._

Finally, after what felt like fifteen _years_, not minutes, I reached the hospital. After a poor parking job I could care less about, I sprinted into the building (as well as a six-month pregnant woman could sprint, anyway). After talking to the woman at the desk, I hunted down Bryant. He looked pale and worn but, thankfully, not terrified.

"She's okay," he said, sounding a hundred years old. I felt my heart pound one more beat, then begin to slow. My stomach literally hurt as it made the transition from fear to relief.

"What the hell happened?" I demanded, dropping my purse and car keys into a chair. I was too restless to stand.

"The doctor said she had a really bad migraine."

I stared at him in disbelief. "A migraine? But she was coughing up blood—"

"Apparently if the migraine is bad enough, it can make you do that." Bryant shook his head. "I don't know all the details. They just told me that it's not unusual."

"Bullshit," I snapped, turning on my heel and sweeping my gaze across the hospital. I wasn't sure what I was trying to do. Find a doctor, maybe, and order him to explain things to me.

"Quinn."

I turned at the sound of my name. Janelle was approaching me, holding baby Piper in her arms. "Take Piper for me, will you? I want to go talk to Lena."

"We can talk to her now?" asked Bryant, taking a step forward.

"Yes," answered Janelle as she gently passed the baby over to me. "I just finished speaking with the doctor. He—" She stopped talking when Bryant abruptly turned and marched off. Janelle shifted her gaze back onto me, shaking her head, her lips pursed. "He gets so worried. I've already told him Lena will be fine." She took a breath. "Alright, well. I am going to go speak to her. I will be back soon. If you need company, you can talk to the beautiful woman behind you." Janelle turned to amble off as I frowned. Cradling the baby in my arms, I turned to see Santana striding toward me, her expression serious.

I balked. _Santana. Oh, hell_. The moment I'd heard Bryant's voice on the answering machine, I'd completely forgotten all about her. Remembering where my mouth had been fifteen minutes ago, I bit my lip. I could still taste her on my tongue. That distinct flavor of Santana and red wine that blended so well together... I cleared my throat when my hormones stirred up a little. Now wasn't the time to feel like that.

I waited, expecting Santana to make some comment about me just taking off and leaving her behind, but to my immense surprise, she said nothing. Only walked up to me, stood before me, and gently brushed the back of her tanned knuckles across the baby's soft curls of dark hair.

"She's okay then?" she asked.

A little stunned, I nodded. "Yeah. How'd you—"

"If she hadn't been, you wouldn't be standing here." Santana looked up from the baby to give me a fleeting smile, but I could see the mixed emotions flash across her eyes. She seemed...tired.

"Are you—are you okay?" I asked tentatively. "I didn't..." My voice trailed off. How could I explain that I hadn't meant to kiss her like that, hadn't meant to touch her, hadn't meant to end it effectively by forgetting about her and storming out of the house?

Santana shook her head. "Quinn, you did nothing wrong, okay?" She looked at me again, and I was taken aback by the wounded nobility in her eyes. She looked so...solemn. So sad. Like she was carrying the world on her shoulders. "I was the one that kissed you, okay? And I know you didn't mean to just rush out like that and forget about me—hell, if it had been my brothers—Puck or Sam, I would've done the same. Because she_ is_ your sister, you know? You couldn't think about anything but getting to her and making sure she was okay."

As I gazed at her, an overwhelming sense of guilt came over me. Santana was always blaming herself, when in all honesty it wasn't just her fault. "Santana..." I began, moving closer to her. We were already so close that the tips of our shoes were touching. I looked up into those solemn brown eyes, opened my mouth but nothing came out. I swallowed. I didn't know how to explain myself, and especially didn't know how to do it when we were standing in the middle of a hospital waiting room, with multiple doctors, nurses and patients near enough to see them. I rarely apologized, and when I did, sure as hell not in public. But she needed to hear it...

"Firstly, I'm the one who came into the living room and sat next to you. And I kissed you back, didn't I?"

She was still shaking her head. "Yeah, but I still started it. I should've been strong enough to end it, don't you think? If we hadn't gotten that call—"

"But we did," I interrupted. I felt a little fear crawling up me, chilling my belly. "And if you had been strong enough to end it, you would be the biggest pussy I've ever met." I was relieved when that inched a little smile out of her. "So will you stop being so hard on yourself?"

She tilted her head and lifted a shoulder in half a shrug. I mentally shook my head at her in disapproval. I would have to have a more in-depth talk with her later, because she still obviously wasn't completely reassured.

"Hey, Quinn." I turned when Bryant called my name. He was standing near the hallway that held the elevators. "Doctor said you can come in now."

"Oh good," I said, more to myself than to anyone else. "Okay, " I called to Bryant. I turned, gestured to the baby; Santana nodded, and I handed her over to her. "Thanks." She nodded again, and I hurried off.

Lena was sitting up in the hospital bed, an IV in her wrist. Despite looking a little paler than usual (which was difficult considering how dark a brown her skin was), with bags under her bloodshot eyes, she had a serene smile on her face and seemed awake and alive.

"Oh, Lena." I gripped the hand the IV wasn't in. "You scared the hell out of me."

Lena smiled up at me. "I shouldn't have. You know I'm strong."

"Yeah, but you just had a baby only two weeks ago..."

Lena shrugged. "I feel fine. I didn't a few hours ago, but I do now."

"What did the doctors say?"

"I had a bad migraine. I haven't been eating well, and then I was over-exhausted, so that caused it."

"But you coughed up blood." Even the thought of it made me feel a little sick again.

"The doctors said when a migraine is bad enough, it can be a side effect." She flipped her palm over to meet mine and squeezed my hand. "I'm okay now. Really." As she looked up at me, her smile widened as she observed me. "What have you been doing?"

"What do you mean?" I said quickly.

"I mean, what have you been doing? Your hair is messy, and soaking wet. Now you're blushing, and your lips are swollen too."

"I took a shower before Bryant called me."

One of Lena's brows winged up. "A shower for two?"

"No," I said, hating how Lena's smile was making me smile; it made me all the more guilty-looking. "I didn't have sex with anyone, Lena."

"Hm." The promise of secrets curved Lena's lips. "It sounds as though you have things to tell me."

Giving up, I pulled a chair to Lena's bedside and exchanged a grin with her. "You're horrible."

Lena laughed. "I'm human, what can I say?"

_At least you're okay,_ I thought, and only smiled at Lena.


	26. Chapter 26

**Chapter 26**

* * *

**Quinn's POV**

"So, it's good that Lena's already back home."

Santana and I were sitting at the kitchen bar the following afternoon of Lena's trip to the emergency room. I was currently watching her prepare breakfast for the two of us. She had offered to make dinner last night, but as it had been nearly four in the morning by the time we arrived home, I hadn't had much of an appetite. We went to bed and woke at the same time, around one in the afternoon. Nine hours of rest, and I felt as though I hadn't had a wink of sleep in weeks. I knew I probably looked horrible, with the shadows under my eyes, but I felt worse than I looked. I didn't know whether or not I should take comfort in that.

"Yeah," I said, and even I could hear how tired my voice sounded. "I'm sure Bryant's relieved."

"He's probably watching over her like a hawk, to make sure nothing else happens to her." Santana picked an egg out of the carton, cracked it expertly and then began to stir it with the speed and finesse of one who had done it countless time before. "I would be the same way, if that had happened to my wife."

An odd feeling came over me, one that I didn't quite know how to describe. It was strange, to hear Santana using the words "my wife" in a sentence.

"Mmm." Clearing my throat, I rose to my feet, walked around the counter to where Santana stood with the eggs and changed the subject. "These look good," I said, peering down into the bowl full of yolk.

"Raw egg looks good to you?" she asked, her brows lifted in amusement. "I guess I could pour you a glass and you could drink them..." she began teasingly.

"That's okay," I said, wrinkling my nose in vague disgust. "I meant that eggs sounded good to eat. You know, once you cook them."

She chuckled. She seemed to be in better spirits today, I'd noticed. "In that case, you want them scrambled, or fried hard?"

"Scrambled works."

She dumped the eggs into the pan on the stove and the sound of sizzling yolk filled the kitchen. "Scrambled it is."

I leaned a hip against the counter, watching as she stirred the eggs, cut them, sprinkled them with salt and pepper. We were silent for awhile, and in the silence, I revisited in my head the conversation we had last night.

I needed to talk to her. She was obviously carrying around guilt, for putting me in so many difficult situations. And I had guilt, for putting her in so many difficult situations. Regardless of what happened in the past, we were in the present now (in the words of my therapist, who had been helping me deal with my shit for the past few months, thanks to my treatment for alcoholism), and we needed to be careful with how we treated one another.

"Here you go."

I pulled myself out of my thoughts when she set a plate of scrambled eggs before me. "Thank you," I murmured, and propped my elbow on the table so I could cup a cheek with my palm and keep my head supported. As I slowly ate my eggs, Santana watched me, appearing slightly puzzled.

* * *

**Santana's POV**

Why did Quinn seem so...quiet? Sad was too strong a word, but it was leaning that way. Ever since she'd woken up this afternoon, she'd been uncharacteristically silent. Even now, she was over there playing with her eggs, nudging them around her plate with the tines of her fork. Maybe she didn't like them.

"Are they not good?" I asked anxiously. "I can make you something else, if you want."

She shook her head. "No, they're good. Great, actually. I just don't have much of an appetite."

My brow was still creased in concern as I watched her. It was unnerving, seeing her so...so downtrodden. "Maybe you need more sleep."

"I slept nine hours."

"Maybe you need more," I repeated. "Sometimes you don't function well unless you get a whole day's worth."

She sighed. "Yeah, maybe." She slid out of the barstool, leaving her half-eaten eggs on the countertop. "I'll take care of these later, okay?" She started to gravitate toward the living room. "I'm just going to go watch TV. for a little while..."

I waited until she rounded the corner and was out of sight, then quietly disposed of her eggs. Once I put the plate back up, I considered asking Quinn if she wanted to watch the movie I had recorded last night. Upon entering the living room, I realized she was already asleep.

I smiled a little as I walked to the couch she lay on. My smile faded as I observed her. I felt my heart ache along with my stomach. Six years later, and I could still get that feeling as I looked at her. No one else had ever made me feel like she did. Not my high school girlfriend, Brittany. Not my college girlfriend, Elena. Definitely not either of the two girls I'd dated right after college, Savannah and Dani, though they hadn't been as serious. Only Quinn had ever been able to make me feel this…indescribable. It was so frustrating, because at the same time, no one had ever made me feel as shitty as she did. Six years ago, no one had ever made me feel as happy as she did. Was the slim hope of regaining that happiness, really worth putting up with her crazy? Or was I just fooling myself into wishing for something that won't ever happen?

I crouched down so I could be eye level with her. Her lashes were golden-brown and so long, feathered out on the tops of her cheeks. Her lips were slightly parted as she breathed, the white ends of her teeth just barely showing. Her complexion was flawless. I honestly couldn't remember a time ever seeing a blemish on her face. And her hair... Gently, I trailed a finger along the spiral of sunlit hair that had fallen out of the loose tail she had on her head. So soft, and smelled so sweet.

Maybe I'd been wrong all this time of being around Quinn. Maybe I'd been wrong all six years of being apart from her. Maybe I'd never fallen out of love with her to begin with...

I'd never been a believer of love at first sight, and perhaps I still wasn't. But wasn't it possible that the first time I laid eyes on her, I'd gained that _possibility_ of falling in love with her? It just took a little work to make that possibility become fact...

And now she was having a baby, and against all odds, I was here with her. Was Lena asking me really the only reason I moved in with Quinn? It wasn't just to watch over. It was because I wanted to be closer to her. I wanted another chance…It seemed as though fate was doing everything it could to convince me that my suspicions were right, I _was_ in love with her and, in fact, had always been, all along...

I straightened, went to retrieve the quilt that was folded over the back of the rocking chair near the television. As I unfolded it and draped it over Quinn, I observed the design of the purple thread and wondered if Janelle had made it, since I'd seen a similar one at Tony's and Lena's houses.

I squatted down again as I tucked the quilt under Quinn's chin. I didn't think it was possible, but my heart ached even more as I looked at her. A yearning. _But for what?_ I couldn't define it.

I watched her a moment longer before leaning forward and softly touching my lips to hers.

When I drew back, I found Quinn's eyes half-open. A little embarrassed and expecting her to chide me, I waited for her to say something.

"Santana?" she murmured sleepily.

"Yeah."

She withdrew a hand out from under the quilt, tapped my shoulder and then forearm as though feeling for something. I lifted my arm questioningly and she slid her hand down it, finally seeming to find what she was looking for: my hand. She gripped it, intertwined our fingers. Then she closed her eyes again.

Somewhat stunned, I crouched there on the floor, my hand held by Quinn's. As she fell asleep again, her grip loosened and her fingers slackened between mine. I tightened my own grip, and lowered down into a sitting position. I leaned against the couch, watching her until exhaustion hit me, too, and I was forced to lay my head on the couch and drift into sleep.


	27. Chapter 27

**Chapter 27**

* * *

**Quinn's POV**

Mmm. I was so warm. The room was cold. I must've forgotten to turn the heater up last night. But it was okay, because I was under a blanket, nice and cozy. The only part of my body besides my head that was exposed was my hand, and it was somehow very warm...

Smiling (I felt so much better after a nap), I opened my eyes, and went to look at the reason my hand was so pleasantly warm.

My expression froze on my face as I stared at the sleeping Santana, not comprehending.

Then it made sense. Understanding soaked into me as warmth melted me. She had...she had put my quilt over me? And she had fallen asleep, holding my hand?

She was in the most uncomfortable position on the floor, leaning against the couch, her arm tilted at an odd angle to keep our hands together. Had she been like this all night? Just to hold my hand?

Oh, God. Tears welled in my eyes and I remembered something I'd read on Reader's Digest about how if you look in the upper right-hand corner, your tear ducts would dry. I determinedly looked up, my breathing turning shallow as I fought the urge to cry. God, why would she do this to me? Didn't she know how much I had been hurt before? Loving people never did anything good for you. No good could come of it, ever. And I had promised myself that I would never again fall in—in—

_No, _I told myself furiously, I wouldn't even think the word.

The fury left as quickly as it had come. I was left behind with nothing but the sorrow, and that faded too when I looked back down at our clasped hands. I quietly sniffled, stilling my quivering lip by biting down on it. Santana was beautiful inside and out, and she made me feel like such a beautiful person as well. Like I'm worthy of being loved.

Oh, I needed to talk to her. Needed to tell her that nothing was her fault. That I was...that I was at fault too. But I knew I couldn't get the words out even if I wanted to.

But I could...maybe I could _show_ her.

It wouldn't be like last time. This time, I would make it memorable. For the both of us, I would make it something beautiful.

I sat up, my quilt slipping off my shoulders. It was silent, and when I looked out the window I saw that it was dark out, with stars decorating the sky. Night already. It was like destiny wanted it this way.

I pulled my hand out of Santana's grip, and the air that hit the heated flesh of my palm and fingers was cold. When Santana stirred, squinting her eyes open, I took her face in my hands, lightly tapped her cheeks with the pads of my thumbs. "Santana?" I whispered; I didn't want to speak loudly and wake her completely. "Hey, I'm going to go...take a shower. Okay?"

"Mkay," she said, closing her eyes again.

"Hey," I repeated, tapping her face again to wake her. "Aren't you going to go to bed?"

She opened her eyes finally, blinked a few times as though it would wake her up. "Um...I guess so." Yawning, she stood up. I put a hand at her back and at her chest to steady her when she swayed. She smiled sleepily down at me. "Thanks."

My lips curved in response. Soon enough, I would wake her up, and her smile would be broader. "You're welcome."

I watched her as she ambled off upstairs for her room. Then I set to work.

I pulled out candles from the drawers in the kitchen, retrieved a lighter gun from another drawer. Then I quietly made my way upstairs.

I dropped the candles on my bed, then picked up a towel from the yet-to-be folded pile sitting in the rocking chair and slipped into the bathroom.

I took my time in the shower. Put more than a generous amount of shampoo and conditioner in my hair, washed myself with expensive body wash that smelled like strawberries and lilacs. I shaved, then lathered my entire body with sweet-smelling lotion that made my skin glow. After blow-drying my hair (something I rarely did), I straightened it. It hung to my mid-back in a shimmering sheet of gold. I applied makeup, a bit of eyeliner, mascara, eye shadow, lipstick that was only a shade or two darker than my normal pink color. I changed into a skirt with a zipper on the side, something I had a feeling Santana would appreciate, and then into a turquoise halter-top that made the green in my eyes stand out. Lastly I decided to adorn small earrings and a rather expensive chain necklace that I bought myself on my vacation to Paris four years ago.

I observed myself in the mirror with satisfaction. This would knock Santana right out of her socks. Then I turned to the side and my lower lip puckered a little in a frown. If only I didn't have a bulging belly... Six months ago this would've been a lot easier. Still, I had to make do with what I had, and I still had a hell of a lot. _Not to be conceited,_ I thought as my reflection's lips' curved.

Then I remembered what I was about to do, and my lips straightened out. I took a deep breath to steady myself, feeling my heart falter, skip and then beat irregularly. _Santana,_ I thought with a rush of excitement. Hopefully she would feel what I couldn't tell her with words.


	28. Chapter 28

**Chapter 28**

* * *

**Santana's POV**

"Santana?"

I squinted, waking abruptly in the sudden light pouring in from the opened door.

"San?"

Sitting up, I blinked at the silhouette of Quinn's head, poking out from behind the door. "Yeah? What's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong. I just...want to spend some time with you."

I woke a little more as the outrageousness of the sentence sunk in. Quinn had just sent me to bed like, five minutes ago...I glanced at the alarm clock at my bedside. Okay, an hour ago. But still. It was only nine o'clock at night, but we'd had so little sleep you'd think she would still be sleeping. How odd, that she suddenly wanted to spend time with me. I narrowed my eyes. Was she pissed that I had held her hand?

"Okay..." I said cautiously. "Why...?"

"I want to talk to you about something."

She didn't sound pissed, but chances are, if she wanted to talk to me about 'something', it was probably a bad thing— a bad thing that _I'd _done. I sighed, resigned to what I was sure to be a good time of listening to her lecture me. "Alright. I'll be out soon. Just give me a minute."

"Okay. I'll be in my room." She retreated, and quietly closed the door behind her.

Alone now, I leaned over to the nightstand, switched on the lamp. Then I rose, changed into some shorts and a thin tank, considering I had been sleeping in my underwear, brushed my teeth and my hair and then made my way downstairs before remembering she said she would be in her room. A little depressed at the thought of getting scolded for holding her hand throughout the night (I supposed it had been a little inappropriate), I knocked lightly on her door.

"You can come in."

I opened the door and stepped in.

I immediately halted, blinking stupidly at the many candles placed around Quinn's room. _Wait a minute..._

She had been sitting on the edge of her bed, but when I walked in, she stood up. I blinked again, my heart thundering at the sight of her. She looked incredible. My mouth went dry as my blood seemed to rush, and the insides of my thighs tingled.

"So, you can guess what I asked you in here for." She crossed the room toward me, absolutely no hesitance in her steps. Suddenly she was the old Quinn again, brimming with confidence, a sexual, mischievous kind of delight in her eyes, a slow, sensual smile on her face. Only now she had even more confidence, because she knew what was coming.

"I...yeah." I couldn't help but to smile as I reached out, put a hand to her cheek. "You look..." I couldn't even find the words to describe absolutely how stunning she looked.

She seemed to understand. "Thank you." Her smile faded a little as she looked up at me. "And thank you for...for earlier. You put a blanket on me. Held my hand. It was…thoughtful, and sweet."

"It really wasn't a big deal," I said, but I couldn't make any gesture to emphasize my point. I couldn't take my eyes off her. _God, she was beautiful. _

"No, it was a big deal, because it was you." She tilted her head, and my heart leapt when she put her hands on my hips. But she only gripped me by the waistband of my shorts, and used it to pull me to her. "Kiss me some."

"More than some." I bent my head, brushed my lips over hers and lingered for a moment to savor it, savor her, savor the both of us, together. "I'll kiss you a lot."

Her lips formed a smile against mine. "You Ohio bumpkin." Her hand came to the back of my head, played with my hair as she stepped back, leading me.

"Actually," I said, touching my grin to hers. "You sounded more bumpkin than I did. Nebraskan hillbilly."

"Did I?" she said vaguely as she parted her lips, deepened the kiss. "I guess I'm around you too much."

"Nah. You..." But then I lost my words in her kiss, and by the time I surfaced had forgotten what I wanted to say.

She was slowly leaning back, farther and farther until she was lying flat on her back on the bed. I knelt over her, appraising her face until my gaze strayed down to the bulge of her belly. Her own gaze drifted, following mine. I placed a hand on her belly, and she placed a hand over mine. In that instance, we both trembled in the beauty of the moment. A thought strayed into my head, soft and tender. _Mine._

Then she put her free hand on the back of my neck, pulled me down until she could take my mouth again. Then it was slow kisses that were getting deeper, faster, until eventually she nudged me back a little and breathlessly asked, "Do you like my clothes?"

A little confused, and so full of desire that I couldn't think, I shook my head and nodded at the same time. "Yeah, I do."

"Good. Take them off me."

She sat up, lifted her arms. Slowly, I drew off her halter-top. She wore a black bra beneath it. She lay back down, and I focused my attention on the skirt she wore. She turned her hips to the side so I could see the zipper. I felt a thrill rush through me as I slid it down. Then I tugged the skirt down her thighs, pulled it off her, and suddenly she lay there before me in matching black underwear, and I thought I was in Heaven.

Bra unclasped, gone. Thong slipped over thighs, ankles, then gone. Gleaming, glowing woman before me, warm, willing, so full of lust for me that she was practically vibrating atop the mattress in anticipation, her eyes bright and hot, her hair a golden mane tumbled out over the sheets. Pure beauty, sprawled out before me.

I started to speak, but found that I couldn't. When she reached for me, I decided I didn't need to. Right now, neither of us needed any words.

Her shortened nails scratched my skin as she pulled off my shirt, pushed down my shorts. After she unclasped my bra and tugged my own underwear off me, I seized her wrists, pinned them above her head while I kissed her senseless, swallowing her moans and stifling her whimpers. She moaned when I lowered my head, and I echoed it when I got my first taste of her. Soon, impatience had her squirming beneath me, her body arching under mine, straining to get to me.

"Santana - Santana - " she gasped, writhing as I used hand and mouth at the same time to drive her toward insanity. "Please - Santana, please, you have to - "

My own control was close to snapping. I released her wrists, allowed her to dig her nails into my back as I positioned myself between her legs, and pushed two fingers inside her. In a swift movement, she slipped hers into me, and we both completely lost what little breath we had left.

She gasped my name, I breathed hers. Lights seemed to be flashing in my mind, like fireworks against the night sky, and all I saw was her. I couldn't pull my gaze from hers, felt as though I never would be able to. I watched as her eyes widened, grew glassy, glazed over. Her hand movements stilled, while I pumped faster, harder. Her body bowed up, and my own body strained under my control as I rolled my hips, desperate to feel her again, and despite the fact that she was too far gone to even continue moving, I was so close it didn't even matter. Then she broke and fell limp, crying out my name while her breath tumbled out of her lips. The fireworks in my head exploded as I came right after her, and I let myself fall, closing my eyes as I drifted through the sky, whispering her name like a prayer.

_Quinn, I love you. Love you. Love..._

Sometime in the twilight of hovering between Heaven and earth, I felt her take my hand.

_...you._

* * *

**Quinn's POV**

"Guess we knew we'd both end up here again," I murmured, her head resting on Santana's chest, just above the warm swells of her breasts.

"Yeah. Took a while, but we got here."

"Yeah."

We lay tangled together, both hands clasped, both chests rising and falling in unison.

I angled my head up to look at her, though all I saw was that strong angle of her jaw and her full lips, swollen from kissing, among other things. "I wanted to talk to you, but I couldn't...I didn't know how to put what I wanted to say into words. So I thought I could show you."

She turned her head to look down at me, a crease between her brow and an odd expression on her face. As though she thought I meant something, or hoped I meant something, but was too afraid to believe it. "What? Show me what?"

"Well, um..." A little abashed, I looked down at our joined hands, focused on my thumb as I traced circles on her skin with it. "I just, kind of wanted to tell you that...that I'm not mad at you. And I shouldn't have been so mad at you in the first place. I acted like everything going on was your fault, I had issues and I knew it and I denied it by projecting all this self-hate on you, just because I was bitter about something that happened six years ago, when we were just kids. Basically, I'm sorry, for treating you in a way that you didn't deserve." I looked back up at her, a small smile playing on my face. "Now that I'm saying it, I realize it really wasn't that hard to say as I thought. I guess I didn't need to seduce you after all." When Santana tried and failed to suppress a smile, I laughed. "You appreciated the gesture, though."

"Definitely."

Sobering, I scooted up in the bed, nuzzled my nose into her neck. "I'm sorry, Santana." I breathed. "I always thought about how this changed my life." I had my hand on the bulge of her stomach. "I…I never thought about how it changed yours."

"It changed mine in a good way." When I didn't answer, Santana turned onto her side to face me, propped her head up with a hand while she put the other beside Quinn's hand on her belly. "Q, I was alone. I mean, I had Puck and Sam and eventually Tony and Shelby, but I was mostly alone. I was my own boss, so I didn't have any co-workers to hang out with either. And I was so bored…with a lot of things. Dating, for one. I was ready to settle down and get in a long-term relationship, but there was no one I felt enough for…except you."

"And I'm having a baby…that's _too_ long-term for you," I said, a weak tease in my tone.

"No, I mean…I don't know." My eyebrows rose as I realized Santana was blushing. When I grinned, she rolled her eyes. "Shut up, I'm trying to be serious here. I just…I didn't think I even liked kids. I mean I liked them. When Rachel and Finn had Starr, that was when I changed my mind about them, and not just because she's adorable. When they had Topher, I was even more comfortable with it. When she has her next, I'm sure I'll have absolutely no problems then. So, I feel like…your baby is family."

Santana studied me, obviously thinking I was going to freak out or something. But I thought it was sweet. "You can be Auntie Santana," I smiled.

She stared at me for a moment, a crease in her brow as though she was frustrated. Then she visibly relaxed, and gave a soft smile as she nodded. "Yeah, I can. See, now can you understand how happy I am?"

"But you lost your job, and your house—"

"So what?" At the surprise in my eyes, Santana smiled. "I owned a few restaurants, big deal. I can get more. And my house was an apartment I paid over a thousand-dollar rent on every month. Not exactly very homely. I promise you, Q. In the past three months, my life has been better than it's ever been. I have friends. You, Lena, Rhi, Claire, you've all became important to me. As cliche as it sounds, my life has meaning now, you know?"

My smile had faded as she spoke. When she finished, I lowered my gaze, closed my eyes and nuzzled her again. _I like you, _I thought. Maybe a little too much.

But I could think about that later.

"So," I said casually, steering the conversation to a lighter subject. "Really, did you like the clothes?"

"Yes," she answered immediately. "It wasn't even the clothes I liked so much as...taking them off."

"Mmm." My lips curved. Success, then. "The zipper."

"Oh, yeah." She grinned. "Very nice touch, with the zipper."

"I thought so." Smiling, I sat up, closing my eyes and putting a hand to my forehead when the room swam around me. "Ooh, wow. Dizzy." I frowned when, upon lowering my hand, I found Santana staring at me, her mouth slightly open, gaping at me. "What?"

"Jesus, Quinn." She shook her head, still staring at her.

My smile slipped off my face to be replaced by an uncertain frown as I looked down at myself, searching for whatever was wrong. "What?" I repeated, defensively this time.

"No, it's not bad." Santana sat up too, an incredulous kind of smile on her face. "You're just...the most beautiful woman I've ever seen."

I stared back at her. Then, to my irritation, felt my cheeks heat up in a blush. "Shut up."

"I'm serious," she softly insisted. She reached out, lightly gripped a handful of my damp hair. It was no longer straight; humidity and sweat had transformed it partly back to waves, consequently making it a huge, thick mane of crazily tangled sunlit hair. "You take sex-hair to a whole new level. And your skin..." She brushed the back of her fingers across her heated cheeks. "You're still so flushed. You're glowing." Her hand dropped to my stomach. "And, God, I've never realized just how sexy pregnant women were."

I smiled, attempting not to show the impact her compliments had on me. _Keep it easy,_ I told myself, taking in a shaky breath. "Does this mean you're going to start heading out to Babies R Us to scope out your next dates?"

She chuckled. "No. I have the best looking one right here."

Her hand brushed my thigh and I felt the stirrings of desire again. "Well, that's nice, I guess."

She was feeling stirrings again too, I noticed as I watched Santana's steady eyes on me grow darker. A corner of my lips tilted upward. "You guess?" Santana said in amusement; she used her grip on my hair to my advantage, and pulled me over to her.

"Mmm-hmm." She rubbed her smile against mine. "Hey," I whispered after our lips hadn't stopped moving for a good few minutes.

"Hmm?"

"Open your eyes."

At my request, they drifted open. They were hazy, a dark brown that made my skin itch with heat. I had waited too long for this, I realized with a sense of ironic despair. Soon enough my belly would be too big, and sex would be too uncomfortable, wouldn't it? I would have to Google it later.

"What?" she said softly, when I hadn't spoken.

I smiled a little as I slowly drew myself up to slide atop her. Her breath caught and her eyes darkened. I watched them, seemed to fall into them as I bent down to let my lips melt with hers. "I just wanted to look at you."

Simultaneously, we both reached, and fingers twined together as palms kissed.


	29. Chapter 29

**Chapter 29**

* * *

**Quinn's POV**

"So, you're together now."

"Yes."

"Doing whatever you want."

"Yes."

"Having sex whenever you want."

"Yes..."

"Having hot sex whenever you want."

"Yes!"

"What kind of hot sex?"

"Rhi!"

"Sorry, sorry! I was just curious."

I glared at Rhiannon over the edge of the Fruity Pebbles cereal box placed on the table before me. Rhiannon shot me a shifty grin as she took a spoon out of a kitchen drawer so she could eat her own bowl of cereal. Despite how I was acting, I was actually a little amused by Rhiannon's attitude. She clearly didn't think it to be that big a deal that I was sleeping with Santana now. Perhaps she'd expected it.

As if she'd read my mind, Lena spoke up from somewhere behind me. "Well, I'm not surprised. I expected the two of you to connect again."

I swiveled around in my seat; Lena was standing near the window with Claire, who was helping her water the plants on the window sill. "Did you?" I asked, and was further amused when Claire turned to give me a stern expression, her hands on her hips.

"If you honestly don't think that we wouldn't think that you and Santana would end up together, you are totally insulting our intelligence."

My smile faded, just a little. End up together?_ That sounded a little too serious..._ "Ah, well, I..." I had forgotten what I wanted to say. Now all I could think about was the panic in my chest at the words _"ended up together."_

Lena seemed to understand, and swiftly stepped forward, placing a hand on the back of my chair. "You and Santana should enjoy each other. After all, it's been many years. You deserve it."

The panic loosened, just a little. _Enjoy each other._ _We could do that._

I shook my hair back from my face, sat up a little straighter and reverted back to the infamous gossip hour. I grinned. "We sure enjoyed each other last night."

Immediately, Claire and Rhiannon flew into a flurry of questions and giggles, and all four women huddled together as we discussed the events of last night while in the next room, Santana and the others did nearly the exact same thing.


	30. Chapter 30

**Chapter 30**

* * *

**Santana's POV**

I was currently a little perturbed by the chill Tony seemed to be emitting toward me. I was stony-faced and silent as Sam and Puck launched questions at me.

"How did it happen? Did you start kissing her and it just happened? Did you talk about it beforehand?" asked Sam eagerly.

"Or did she just like, yank you into her bedroom and straddle you?" Puck's eyebrow was raised and he was smirking knowingly. "That's what happened with me and Rhi's first time together."

"None of those," I said, amused. "She asked me to come to her room, so I did."

Puck snickered. "Yeah, and then pounced..."

I grinned, though it faded a little when I watched Tony's fists clench. Oh shit, he was mad.

"So how was she?" Sam persisted. "She hasn't had sex in awhile, right? I bet she was crazy! Did she—"

"Shut up," snarled Tony, his head snapping up to glare at Sam, who seemed to shrink, his eyes widening. Tony rounded on me. "You, follow me."

Uneasy but steeling myself for what I was expecting, I got to my feet and followed Tony through the hallway. As we passed the kitchen, I glanced in through the doorway and spotted Quinn sitting at the bar, surrounded by Lena, Rhiannon and Claire. I caught her gaze, and the corners of her lips quirked upward, and I felt a pleasant heat trickle through me. Understanding passed between us. We were both experiencing the same thing. Later tonight, we could experience another same thing together—

"Right, so, listen to me, and listen well." Tony's glare was steely and cold with hard anger. He pointed a finger threateningly at me. "If you hurt her, at all, I am going to raise hell."

I stared, taken aback. Tony had been one of my best friends for a while now; I knew when he was being serious. And he was being completely serious. "Ah...I'm not going to hurt her, Tony."

"No, it's not 'try'. You _will not _hurt her. Do you understand me? The last bastard of a guy she was with proposed to her, then had an affair and broke her heart, and she's not going to go through that again. Do you understand me?"

I was silent, stiffening as anger flooded through me; it always did when I thought about Quinn's asshole ex-fiance who was too much of a dick to even want to be a part of his kid's life.

"Santana." Tony moved closer to me, and suddenly his face was right in mine. "This is serious, damn it. If you hurt her at all, I will kick your ass."

"I'll give you permission." My fists were clenched now, my knuckles white.

"I am not asking you as a friend, Santana." Tony said furiously. "I am telling you, as Quinn's older brother—or the closest she has to one, anyway—you already hurt her when she was a kid. Now she's knocked up, and you live with her. Now you're sleeping with her. You'd be an idiot not to realize you're basically a big part of her life. Don't screw it up. And I know she was crazy and treated you like a total bitch, but she's reigned her crazy in, she's getting help, she's trying. Don't screw it up."

Slowly, I calmed down, the tint of red leaving my vision as I relaxed. Tony was worried for Quinn. He wasn't literally threatening me, but he was warning me that he would be severely pissed if I hurt Quinn—which I wasn't planning to do. I had a feeling he was going to have a similar talk with Quinn, and the thought was comforting somehow. He cared about us. We all cared about each other. We were a big, weird family here, and I loved it.

"I won't." I held Tony's glare for a moment, then Tony seemed to accept it. He nodded, gruff and suddenly somewhat abashed at his behavior.

"Alright. Thanks."

"Yeah."

There was an awkward silence for a moment, and then Tony jerked his head toward the living room. "Want to go back in now?"

"Yeah."

I followed him back into the living room, where the rest of the family had piled in. Quinn was still talking to Rhiannon, Claire and Lena, though their animated discussion had moved to the couch now. Janelle was cradling baby Piper in her arms, standing with Shelby and attempting to have Robbie kiss Piper's head. Tony went to join them, while I stood watching everyone until Puck and Sam, who had been in the kitchen getting drinks, returned to stand by me.

"So, now that over-protective brother is gone..." Puck grinned. "How was she?"

A slow smile lifted the corners of my lips as Quinn lifted her head, caught my eye, and winked.


	31. Chapter 31

**Sorry for the long wait, guys. School is as busy as ever.**

**For my Fate on Fire followers, I should be updating that pretty soon. And you should really like the upcoming chapters ;) It will be a lot more detailed than this (My Clarity and You and I) series, mostly because I only write this for the heck of it, while Fate on Fire I enjoy writing more, and consider it my "main" fanfic. **

**Anyways, enjoy! :)**

**Chapter 31**

* * *

**Quinn's POV**

"Don't you love that I'm rich?"

Baffled laughter bubbled out of Santana's lips at my random statement as we entered my house late at night. We'd been sleeping together for over two weeks now, and had celebrated the two weeks by watching a movie over at Tony's with the rest of the gang. It was late by the time we arrived back at my house, nearly two in the morning. Lena and Bryant had left around eleven to take Piper home, but the rest of us (Santana and I, Tony, Shelby, Janet, Rhi, Claire, Puck, Sam and Robby, though he fell asleep quickly) remained up, while we watched Pitch Perfect after having an Orange is the New Black marathon (Robby and even baby Piper played upstairs with Janet, since they were too young to watch it and it wasn't even remotely the kind of show she would enjoy watching).

Santana drew my coat off, draped it on the coat rack before I helped her pull off her own. My phone made a noise and I checked it, swiftly texting Lena back (she was currently helping me arrange a pickup for a present I planned on getting Santana for her birthday next week) and slipping it into my back pocket again before Santana answered.

"Don't I love that you're rich? Why?"

I leaned a hip against the back of the couch, watching Santana fish her car keys out of her coat pocket. "Don't you just love it? We don't have to be so busy all the time. We don't have to work. We don't have to worry about bills. We can go and spend time with our friends without being too tired from working. We have extra energy that we can use..."

At the change in my tone, Santana quickly dropped her coat and keys and moved to me, a grin developing on her tanned face. "In that case, yes, I love it."

"I bet." My lips curved as she put her hands on the couch on both sides of my hips, trapping me. I twined my arms around her neck, kissed her once, twice before murmuring, "I bet you would really love it if we took this upstairs right now, wouldn't you?"

She skimmed her lips along my jawline. "Is that a serious question?"

"Only if there's a serious answer to it."

"God, you're hot," she moaned into the shell of my ear, and I shivered at the sensation of her breath hot against my skin. My fingers reflectively curved over her arms, clutching her more tightly to me. When my phone vibrated again, I nudged her back, ignoring her grumble of protest. I slanted my phone so she wouldn't be able to see it as I read the message from Lena. Then I smiled.

"Come on, lets go upstairs…" Santana tried again, stepping into me and kissing my neck again.

"Well, we can't." I smirked at her expression when I prodded her back from me. "I have a surprise for you, since it's your birthday next week."

Disgruntled, she straightened her shirt. "That was a surprise itself."

I shook my head, smirking slightly. "Sex will come later. This is a pre-birthday present."

She frowned when she glanced at the clock. "It's nearly midnight."

"Yeah, but Lena only just texted me."

I gave her half a smile, perplexed. "What is it?"

"I can't tell you." I turned, plucked my coat off the rack again. "Just grab your keys."

"Can't we go after..."

She glanced at I over my shoulder as I sauntered toward the door, hips swinging. "If you hurry, maybe we'll have time...your car has a fairly big backseat, right?"

Santana perked up immediately, and my laugh floated back to her as she seized her keys and her coat and hurried after me.

* * *

**Santana's POV**

"Okay," Quinn said ten minutes later as we slowed at a stoplight. "Close your eyes."

"What?" Dutifully, I closed them. "Why?"

"I don't want you to see where we're going or it'll ruin it." I felt the car take a left turn, then felt Quinn's hand as she patted my thigh. I felt all the blood in my body rush. "I think you'll really like this. You've never exactly asked for it, but...I think you seem like the type."

Interest piqued. "What is it? I can't take suspense," I added. The car rumbled over gravel for a moment before returning to smooth pavement.

"Just wait," she said sternly, and I felt the car take another turn. "We're almost there. Keep your eyes closed."

Two minutes later the car slowed to a stop over gravel. Quinn warned me to keep my eyes closed again, and because I really hoped she had been serious about the backseat of my car, I did as she told. My door opened, and then she gripped my arm to help guide me out.

"Keep them closed," she said, sounding as though she was utterly enjoying whatever she was doing. "No peeking."

I shivered a little as I shuffled across what I assumed was a parking lot. I hadn't put my coat on, and as it was nearly January...

A moment later the warmth of a heater hit me as Quinn led me into a building. I heard her murmur a quick word with some man and thought we might stop, but she only kept urging me forward until finally she guided me down into a chair. I had no idea where she was for a second; then I felt her arms slide around me and her chest against my back. Her hand pressed gently over my eyes to make sure I wouldn't open them as she put the side of her face to mine and nipped at my earlobe before whispering, "Cover your ears too. I'll be right back."

Confused but rather enjoying myself, too, I covered my ears and waited. It wasn't even a full minute before I felt Quinn touch her finger to my nose, and I opened my eyes and released my ears and saw her standing before me, her arms full with a squirming, barking, wriggling puppy.

A huge grin broke out on my face, and I immediately leapt to my feet, extending my arms for the dog. "Oh, _wow_." It was small, tiny really, with floppy ears and a curly tail. It was a reddish-brown fur-ball. "This is awesome. What kind of dog is it? It looks like a mini husky."

"It's called a Shiba Inu." She was watching me, smiling, obviously very pleased with my reaction. "I was talking with Puck the other day and he told me that you'd used to have a dog, a golden retriever, right?" When I nodded, too infatuated with the dog to reply, she went on. "He told me that your dad took your dog away when you were ten, and so I thought you might like another one." She patted her belly. "She can keep the baby company."

I had been currently peering between the dog's legs to try to discern past the fur what gender it was, before I grinned again and lowered the puppy. "So it's a girl."

"Yep. What're you going to name her?"

"Hm. I don't know yet." She lifted the puppy again to scrutinize her. It blinked balefully at me, large dark eyes that seemed fairly intelligent for a dog. As our gaze held, its little ears twitched, and its tail began to wag madly. Quite simply, I fell in love with the dog, and even more in love with Quinn. Before I knew it, I opened his mouth and began, "Quinn, I love..." and then lifted my gaze, saw her watching me and her smile fade a little at the beginning of the sentence, and I took the coward's way out. "...this dog." I plastered on a grin, moved to her to give her a one-armed hug. "Thank you."

She smiled too then, and seemed to have not noticed, for which I was grateful. Whatever we had going here wasn't something I was about to mess up.

She wrapped an arm around my waist as together we strode out of the dog shelter. "So you definitely wanted a dog, then?"

"Yeah! I had been thinking about getting one, but I didn't know if you would want a dog and a baby, so I figured I'd just wait."

"I thought that at first too, but then I saw her picture and I couldn't resist," she said, sending an affectionate expression toward the dog, which was panting and squirming in my other arm. "Lena's been helping me arrange it. The owner is a friend of Janelle's. That's why we had to go pick her up early, Lena texted me and said if we didn't go adopt her now, someone else wanted her."

_Best birthday present ever,_ I thought as we climbed into the car. She knew me so well. I glanced at Quinn as she started the engine. A few wisps of her golden hair had fallen out of the casual up-do she'd wound on the top of her head. She wore virtually no makeup, and her face was heartbreakingly beautiful. She was still smiling over the fact that I was so happy with my dog. _Yep,_ I thought with a mental sigh, I was definitely head over heels in love with this woman. Now I just had to figure out a way to tell her.

The drive back home was shorter than the drive to the kennel. When we climbed out of the car, Quinn hurried over to her own Porsche and retrieved a sack of dog care necessities from her trunk. In the house, we moved furniture into the doorways of the kitchen so the dog would be caged in there until she was housebroken, and set out the ridiculously expensive golden and silver dog food bowls Quinn had bought, pouring water in one and dog food in the other. Then we stood at the counter, watching the little puppy stumble her way around the kitchen to sniff curiously at the cabinets and fridge.

"Best present ever?" said Quinn, reaching over the countertop to grip my hand and pull me her way.

"Definitely." I bent my head, brushed a kiss across the tip of her nose before smiling at her. "Thank you."

"Welcome." Then she took a step back, towards the garage door, tugging me along by my hand. "You wanna go to your car?"

"I'll race you."

She gave a high peal of laughter when I shot past her, slapping her right on the ass as I went.


End file.
